


Nihil: The Melancholy/The Calvary

by algol_ardhanari



Series: Nihil [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 76,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/algol_ardhanari/pseuds/algol_ardhanari
Summary: What happens if you deny everyone and decide to pursue the lion. A route for Joshua Roderick, part of Nihil. You should read Nihil: The Calm before reading this.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Nihil [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153550
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Monday's Melancholic Fracture

“Have you already decided who you want to stay with?”

Ain’t that a great question.

There’s so many factors going into the choice that, even now that I’m supposed to make it, I’m not sure how to respond to that.

I don’t get to respond, though, before Joshua fills in for me – chuckling, in contrast to how he’s been acting up until now. “Maybe I should rephrase, actually. Who have you chosen to stay with, and why is it Tyler?”

Tyler?

“Wait, huh?”

He arches a brow, arms crossed. “Yes, Tyler. It’s the most logical choice, isn’t it? He’s the one with an actual house with spare rooms, you can stay out of each other’s hair, and he’s easygoing enough to make for a good roommate. If I had to choose, I’d choose him, at least.”

He has a point, actually. Out of those three, staying with Tyler would probably be the most pleasant experience for me, going off of comfort alone – he’s very nice, and even though I’m not quite _as_ into video games as he is, we could play stuff together when we have free time. Besides, there’s just something about him that I feel I should be investigating further – how he seems to get paralyzed when it comes to talking to people he doesn’t know… it’s pretty strange, because he didn’t used to be like that. Maybe I could help with that.

“…no, actually.” But he isn’t my choice.

“Hm.” With his arms still crossed, Joshua looks down and scratches his cheek. “Brett, then? His apartment is small and in a not-so-nice part of town, but he’s pretty agreeable so staying with him would probably be entertaining. Besides, I… could probably send him money to pay for the higher utility bills if necessary. I could shoulder the cost.”

Brett wouldn’t be my first choice, for sure. It isn’t just the fact that his apartment is like that, because Brett is so easygoing that I would probably enjoy living with him. We don’t share much in the way of hobbies, but I could probably learn a few things about him… and, actually, the fact that he’s still living there worries me. All the trembling he did the times we saw each other, too… that worries me. Something is going on. Maybe I could help with that.

“…yeah, nah, still not him. He’s cool, but nah.” But he isn’t my choice.

Joshua furrows his brow for a few seconds, taking a deep breath. After a bit, he arches his brows in a face that is equal parts concern and disappointment. “…Michael, then? Well… my own personal misgivings with him aside, I suppose he’d be entertaining to live with… and his apartment is nice enough.”

That’s some pretty harsh emotion I feel under Joshua’s words. He’s right, Michael would be entertaining to live with – he’s an absolute riot when he manages to stay calm, and his apartment is pretty nice, all things considered. That’s the key thing, though – _when he manages to stay calm,_ and, from what I’ve seen, he apparently can’t do that a lot nowadays. That explosion of anger and emotion today was… something else. I’ve never seen him so angry, and I sure have never seen him breaking things like that. There’s something very wrong there. Maybe I could help with that.

“…you don’t have to worry, I’m not going for him.” But he isn’t my choice.

Joshua blinks a couple of times, crossing his arms against his chest harder. He looks… puzzled. “I don’t understand.”

Do I really have to spell it out to him? “Joshua, I want to stay with you.”

All expression drops from his face as I say that.

“I mean, I know you didn’t offer, but I feel it’d make sense. You have a bunch of spare rooms in your house, you make good money, and I bet we’d get along great, yeah? We’ve always gotten along well. It makes sense, right?”

“I… guess.” He scratches the back of his head. “I just don’t really get why you’d want to live with me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well…?” He furrows his brow, pushing his glasses up. “Tyler is nice to a fault, Brett is very fun to hang out with, Michael is _entertaining_ when he wants to be, and I’m… the dullest person in the group. I don’t understand, honestly.”

That’s kind of the main thing, isn’t it? Joshua has always been the most stoic person of the group – our sort of calm, collected team dad, helping us all out and keeping us all in check when necessary. Kind of a vital part of the group. But these past few days he’s been acting so weird. He’s been much dourer than usual, and it’s like he doesn’t react to things the way he used to. I’m no mental health professional so I can’t say what could possibly be happening, but it feels like something’s wrong here, and it’s hidden just beneath the surface. Maybe I could help with that.

“Are you sure you want to live with me, James? You could go over your choices again.”

But he is my choice, and I’m certain. “Yes. I know it’s going to be great, Josh.”

He gives me a blank stare for a few seconds before blinking. “Alright.”

“I mean, if you don’t want to—”

“No, really, it’s fine. You’re right, I can afford to have you living here, and it’s probably the best choice given the circumstances. I should have offered before. I’m sorry.” He heads to the sink, like he’s ready to do the dishes, but realizes he literally just did them. He lets out a sigh.

“Hey, stop apologizing for everything. It’s alright, Josh.”

The way he closes his eyes almost reminds me of a grimace. “I’ve just had a lot in my mind the past few days, is all. You’re right, it’s gonna be great.” He turns to me and gives me a half-smile. The half-smile fades as he looks around. “…it’s getting late, though. I know I just woke up from a nap, but I’m still rather tired.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m feeling a bit drained as well… I feel I could get ready for bed soon. Should head back to the couch and—”

“No.” He takes a breath. “If you’re staying in this house for more than just a day or two, you’re not sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, right. Um… so, one of the spare rooms?”

He crosses his arms and looks down a few seconds, in thought. “…no, you’re staying in my room.”

Well, that’s sudden. “Huh?”

“It’s… the best place to stay. It has the best heating in the house, and is far away enough from the rest of the town that you really can’t hear anything. I bet you’ll sleep well there. Just… do you have a futon or anything to sleep in? Because I doubt you’ll want to sleep in my bed with me.”

An attractive proposal. I doubt just telling him “yes” would really result in him letting me sleep with him on his bed, though. “I do have one, actually! Or, well, a ground mattress. Lemme…” I get up and head to the living room, towards my bag, unzipping it and fetching a rolled up ground mattress from it. Joshua follows behind me – I can hear his footsteps. I pull it out, and unroll it, and look at it on the ground. “Well, it’s this.”

Joshua has an inscrutable expression on his face as he looks down at the mattress. It feels disapproving. “…no. You are not sleeping on that.”

“Huh?”

“I have a better one here, and you’re sleeping on that one.” He goes ahead, zips my bag back up, and lifts it, seemingly effortlessly. “Come on.” Then, he walks up the stairs.

I follow him closely, mainly because I don’t know if I want to explore the house on my own. Being so late at night makes me realize just how big it feels. It’s just two stories, and it isn’t really an enormous place, but how quiet it is makes it feel a lot larger. I have to keep my imagination in check.

It doesn’t take long for us to reach Joshua’s room, which seems to be across from a bathroom, past a few locked rooms. “Why don’t I sleep in one of your extra rooms?”

He sets the bags down and takes a few seconds to reply. “It’s just… no. They aren’t furnished and it’s just better for you to sleep here, and I prefer to keep those rooms locked, alright?”

I don’t know if I really take that answer.

Joshua’s bedroom is about as nice as you’d expect a room to be in his house, but is rather unremarkable otherwise. A bed with black bedding on one corner of the room – he really likes the color black, I guess – that the window seems to pour light onto directly, a nightstand with a lamp next to the bed, a desk with a computer – turned off – on it, a very nice office chair, and not much else. No posters on the walls, no personal decorations, nothing. It’s pretty tidy and efficient, but I can’t say much about it otherwise. Odd. I can say, though, that there’s the window, and also a glass door that leads to a balcony overlooking the lake. I bet it looks nice.

“You should probably tell the others that you aren’t staying at their houses, by the way.” Joshua doesn’t look at me, still rummaging through the closet.

“Oh, right!” I whip out my phone and shoot everyone some messages. Identical messages for all three.

‘I’m not staying in your house, sorry’  
‘I’m staying with Joshua’

Brett is the first one to reply.

‘ok!’  
‘have fun there dude!’

Tyler follows shortly after.

‘ooo ok :)’  
‘i see why u would, his house is comfy’

Michael takes a few more moments to reply.

‘k’

Considering what happened today, I don’t imagine he’s terribly enthused at the idea of me spending time with Joshua. At the same time, I don’t know what his problem is, and my choice is made.

Something hits the ground next to me, and I realize it’s a rolled up mattress. Joshua bends down next to it and undoes its bindings, letting it unfold… yeah, he’s right, this one is better. It’s wider than the one I have, and it looks a lot softer, as well.

Joshua gets up and goes right back to the closet, rummaging for something else. It’s a big closet. “You should go brush your teeth. It’ll take me a bit to get this all set up.”

“In the bathroom on this floor, right?”

He pauses. “The most practical thing is for us to share the bathroom, so yeah.”

I run down the stairs to fetch my toothbrush from the other bathroom, turning the light off before running up the stairs again. Entering the bathroom on this floor, you can definitely tell it’s the main bathroom. It has a lot more things in it, like mouthwash, what looks like conditioner… and a makeup pouch. Weird. I don’t judge – I’m an art major – but Joshua doesn’t seem like the type to wear that sort of stuff, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him wearing any, either. I probably shouldn’t check the contents either. The shower seems a lot larger, as well, separated from the rest of the bathroom by a glass door, and I can see several hygiene products in there. I think at least one of those bottles has to be shampoo. I mean, the guy has a pretty long and well-maintained mane. It’d just make sense.

I squeeze some toothpaste onto my toothbrush, open the faucet, run it under the water, and brush my teeth. It goes by uneventfully. The mirror in this bathroom is truly enormous, though. Standing in front of it, I’m sure someone that’s Joshua’s height can probably see almost all his body. He isn’t terribly vain, either, so I wonder what he needs this for. Maybe it just came like this, with the house.

Done brushing my teeth and rinsing my mouth, I get back to the room, where… Joshua has spread some bedsheets, a few blankets, and a pillow inside a pillowcase on the mattress on the floor. It’s so well made that it almost looks like a second bed in the room, shorter than his own. He’s just sitting on his own bed unlacing his boots. “It’s ready.”

I blink a few times. “Oh, thanks, Josh! That’s so nice.”

A pause. “Is it?”

“Well, yeah! Anyone else would just hand the person the blankets and sheets and tell them to figure it out themselves.”

Yet another pause. “Mm. I guess that’s true, but it feels like such a bare minimum of effort to commit to.” He slips out of his boots, stretching his feet – I can see claws poking at the tips of his socks. Funny how cats have claws both on their hands and their feet like that. “Climb into bed if you want. I’m just going to brush my teeth.”

“Wait, did you already have dinner? I never asked.”

The thought gives him pause, apparently. “Yes. I ate before you woke up and came to the kitchen.” Then, he leaves the room. I guess that tracks.

Taking off my pants and shirt and changing into the t-shirt I wear to sleep, I climb into bed… and it’s even more comfortable than it looks. It’s incredible to me that this is really a mattress that can be rolled up and that is on the floor – if I didn’t know any better I’d assume I’m just on a regular bed. I wonder how much it cost to get this. For a second, I consider asking Joshua where he bought it.

I check out a few more things on my phone while Joshua does his stuff in the bathroom. I don’t really wanna go to sleep before he comes back – it’d feel rude, almost. I hear running water, then no running water, then running water once more. Some gargling, as well. He comes back, closes the door and locks it, and takes his glasses off, leaving them on the nightstand. “Surprised you aren’t already asleep. I thought you were tired.”

“I am, but I didn’t want to go to sleep before you. I feel it’d be rude.”

Joshua sighs. “Fine.” A chuckle. “You get hung up on the weirdest things sometimes.” He pulls out his phone, seemingly turns it off, puts it on the nightstand, and grabs the lower edges of his tank top—“Oh, right. I’m not shy about my body at all. I hope you don’t mind.”

I can’t explain to him how much I don’t mind. I feel a bit weird staring at him undress like this – like some pervert – but I get to confirm that he still sleeps in his underwear, as he strips down to just that. Black boxer briefs. Snug against his skin. Fitted to all his muscle.

Please calm down, James.

He grabs the cross hanging from his neck, like he’s contemplating what to do with it for a second, before leaving it alone. He flicks the light off with his tail, so that the only light in the room is moonlight pouring in through the window and the balcony door – before he closes the curtains, leaving us in pitch darkness. “Good night. I’m not waking you up in the morning. I’ll just get up and make us breakfast, yeah? Feels like it makes sense.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Good night!”

No response from Joshua, but I hear the bed frame creak slightly as he climbs into his own bed. He must be pretty heavy. I turn my phone off and set it down on the ground, and slowly drift off…

* * *

I have no material form. I try to look at my hands but I see absolutely nothing – it’s like the signals that tell me to move my body are all there, but there’s no body to receive them. An inclined plane, with infinite greyness stretching out in every direction. Featureless, but made of stone. It’s an upwards slope.

Steps catch my attention, and I turn my disembodied conscience to face them. From a mist of sorts emerges a lumbering figure, an unreasonably large body… I come to realize it’s several bodies. The main body is a lion, white and with a black mane and body hair. He’s going up the hill, slowly. From his right arm hangs an inanimate corpse, latched onto him. That of a salamander. From his left arm hangs a larger, also inanimate corpse, desperately clinging to him. A bear. On his back is a smaller body, still a corpse, its fingers and claws digging into the soft flesh of his chest, and its maw locked into his neck, biting down – an image that maybe would be sexual if it wasn’t because of the bleeding. A fox. On top of him is a last corpse – that of a deer with short antlers, its head resting on his skull, its hands gently wrapped around his jaw.

That’s me.

That’s Joshua walking up the hill, with four corpses on him, and I’m at the very top.

He looks like he’s about to keel over at any point. His eyes are half-lidded and completely lifeless – totally dead behind the eyes. He’s in a truly deplorable state, his fur matted with blood, and almost naked, except for some black fabric haphazardly wrapped around his waist that drapes down and covers his sensitive bits. His tail hangs limp behind him, almost dragging on the ground. The bleeding… there’s so much bleeding. The claws of the fox – Michael? – digging into him, and the biting in his neck, draws so much blood out. It drips down his neck and chest, down all his fur, and he leaves a trail with each step he takes. His arms are bleeding as well, and I realize Brett and Tyler’s claws are also digging into his body there, though it’s less violent.

As I approach, I realize he’s saying something. Muttering. I can’t catch all of it, because it’s too low, but I do get a few things. “…rent is coming up tomorrow. Needs money…”

I don’t get it. The lumbering figure takes another struggling step forward, up the slope. “...deadline is approaching. Might need help. Stay vigilant…”

Another step. Even though he has all this weight on him, he keeps stepping forward, never stopping.

I scream. I yell at him that he needs to stop, because he’s bleeding out and his body is going to give way at any moment. He needs help.

He stops. Then, something else leaves him – a chuckle. Low, dark, and pained, but undeniably a chuckle. His face twists into a sad grin. “Stop? But I can’t.” He raises his right arm, slowly, and as he does, Brett’s body slides down it, until it’s hanging from the shoulder. His right hand pats the corpse on his head’s cheek, and I can feel it like he’s gently patting my cheek. “If I don’t keep going forward forever, nobody will. Such a… silly idea. Someone has to drag us all upwards forever.” A deep breath. “James… James… This is how it always is and this is how it will always be.” He coughs. His fingertips and claws gently drag down my cheeks. A caress. “And you… you’re not my escape. You’ve never been, you are not, and you will never be. But… it’s not your fault. So, don’t worry about it.”

His right arm goes limp, and Brett returns to his original position. Blood is now smeared on my corpse’s cheek.

And, with that, he keeps walking upwards, and he disappears into the fog once more.


	2. Postface of The Calm, Preface of The Melancholy

_You straddle the lion's hips as he lays back in bed, looking up at you. His arms lie limp towards his sides, and he does nothing to stop you. The only light in the room is moonlight pouring in through the window, gently illuminating his muscles and his features. You can feel his full length within. His heavy breathing, and the redness of his skin are sure signs that he's still alive. His furrowed brow, sad eyes and lightly parted lips are sure signs that his attention is on you exclusively. He mutters something that you don't quite catch._

_Shifting, you impale yourself further. He grimaces, his back arching, in physical pleasure and mental pain. Your hand goes to his cheek, gently pressing into his skin. He grimaces hard, burying his face into your hand, grabbing it desperately and pressing it deeper into his fur. Even now, you can feel how touch-starved he is._

_Here and now lies heaven. You are comfortable. He is comfortable as well, enjoying someone paying attention to him for a change. Even in the night's silence, even without a single word hanging in the air, even with only your breathing and his filling the empty space, you can feel how strongly his love for you burns. How deep his longing is, how profound his pain has become, and how desperately he clings to you for hope, love, liberation, and peace._

_You don't know it, but this is the last time either of you will feel true happiness._


	3. Tuesday's Shield (Part 1)

_Curious is the case of the most pitiful fool._   
_The first and last nameless entity,_   
_whose will and joie de vivre,_   
_or the lack thereof,_   
_shattered the chains,_   
_only to thrust heavier shackles upon his spirit._

_A crumbling foundation, only occasionally visible_   
_beneath the surface of the presentation,_   
_in the cracks upon the surface_   
_of his beautiful, peerless, marble façade._   
_Many hands and eyes peruse the surface,_   
_and reap the fruits of its beauty,_   
_and never notice a thing,_   
_for he patches the cracks before long._   
_Imperfections and blemishes to be purged,_   
_to allow for more and better consumption._

_The penitent fool, bearing many crosses;_   
_the other fools', upon his hands and legs,_   
_the kingmaker, upon his mind,_   
_and his very own, upon his heart and soul._

_A pitiful display._   
_An eternal penitence._   
_An ordeal nobody asked him to undertake._   
_Burdens he was never asked to carry._   
_Pains he bears regardless,_   
_because it is the only way he learned to love._

_He, too, shall be broken,_   
_in due time._   
_Threefold shall his final malediction be,_   
_of profound, all-consuming emptiness._

_Strange is the man whose will is consigned to the void._   
_Even stranger is the man who observes that man._

_God sleeps beneath the waves._

_~ Unknown_

* * *

I stir awake to a different ceiling above my head. It takes me a second to remember that I moved to Joshua’s bedroom when I used to be sleeping in his living room. I feel… incredibly well rested. Maybe he was right, and it _is_ just the heating being a lot better in this room. I sit up, being greeted by the sight of the lake in the distance – the curtains are open, and light is pouring in through the glass door and the other window in the room. It’s a beautiful sight. The lighting in the room is very well made, as well. Joshua must have gotten up at some point before me and opened the curtains, somehow stepping around me so he didn’t wake me up.

My hand goes to my phone, and I feel something on top of it. When I remove it to check, I see there’s a post-it note on it now…

‘your breakfast is at the bar, like usual. i am not letting you eat on my desk or my nightstand, sorry.

~j’

Very laconic and efficient. That’s Joshua. I’m impressed by the fact that he could leave this note on the phone that was right next to my face without me noticing, though.

I get up, throwing on yesterday’s pants, and exit the room. As I traverse the hallway, I notice the door to the bathroom is locked – Joshua must be in there. No idea what he might be doing. Maybe the illumination in this part of the house would be better if there were actual open doors and the sunlight entering through the windows could reach here, but it’s… astonishingly dark. Once more, I’m left with the feeling that this house is just too big – even if it isn’t meaningfully large. I don’t know why I feel like this.

I go down the stairs and, indeed, my breakfast is there. Some orange juice in a tall glass cup, fried eggs with some ham, and some diced fruit… It takes me a few moments to identify it as papaya. I don’t know if I’ve had it before, but Joshua has told me it’s a lot easier and cheaper to get in his country. Of course, that doesn’t stop him from getting all sorts of weird fruit here, stuff that I’ve never seen before. Perks of living in a tropical country, I suppose.

I turn my phone on and have my breakfast. I can’t deny that I feel a little disappointed noticing the complete lack of message notifications – no messages from Tyler, Brett or Michael, and no new messages in our group chat. Fortunately, no notifications that someone left the group either. Yesterday was a mess, but I’d hate to see our little group split apart because of that. I was told that it’s not the first time this happens, but I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, it means the group has survived things like this before, but on the other hand, having something like that happen _regularly_ is horrible for the health of the group.

Unfinished business… With a bite of ham in my mouth, I’m reminded that all of that happened when I wanted to come out to everyone. What a mess. I don’t think I’ll really be able to organize another meeting just to come out to them. The mood feels weird. Maybe I should just come out to them individually, then…

…and I could start with Joshua, since I’m living in his house and all. Yeah, that’s a good plan. I hear the shower running, so maybe not _right now_ , but definitely soon. He’s gay himself, so he’ll take to the news well.

I finish up my meal, and I don’t know if I’m insane, but I feel it’s even tastier than the food Joshua’s made for me until now. Maybe the fact that I’m living with him now, so he wants to put more effort into what he cooks for me, but he’s always been good at cooking. I wash the dishes, pocket my phone, and run up the stairs—

At the top of the stairs is Joshua, looking down at me. But that can’t be, because just a few moments ago he was in the bathroom and I heard the shower running, yet here he is, dry and fully dressed, looking at me. It takes me a second to notice that his eyes are pitch black, like the eye sockets are empty, and he’s completely static, not breathing – less a person and more a static image of one.

Then, I blink and he’s gone.

I shake my head and run up the rest of the steps. Hyperactive imagination, I guess. I’ve had a lot of these weird visions my whole life. I can’t help feeling that I’ve been having them a lot more often the past couple of days, but… not much I can do about that. Probably nothing. Probably just the fact that my whole environment is changing and the stress is getting to me a bit.

As I come to the door of the bathroom, I hear the shower turn off again. I knock on the door. “Joshua?”

“Yeah?” The voice inside is a bit muffled.

“Can we talk a bit? It’s nothing serious or urgent, but I do want to tell you something.”

A pause on the other end. “…sure. Come in.”

Come in? Maybe he’s already getting dressed. Does he even get dressed inside the bathroom?

I turn the doorknob, noticing the bathroom is unlocked, and push in—

I close the door, immediately after being greeted by a naked Joshua still in the shower. Turned away from me and with his tail down, but naked and still inside, for sure.

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

“W-what do you mean what’s wrong!? You’re still naked!”

A pause. “…I’m aware? I think I am keenly aware that I’m naked. James, I’m in the shower. What did you expect?”

After he says that, I’m left without words. He’s right, on some level, and maybe I should have expected that when he said to come in, but… “…who just tells someone else to _come in_ while they’re taking a shower?”

A longer pause. I can hear Joshua humming in thought inside the bathroom. “I told you last night I’m not shy about my body at all, James. I’m not going to show you my dick unless you ask to see it for some reason, but everything else is fine. My clothes are so tight that I might as well be shirtless all the time anyways.”

Funny that he mentions wanting to see his dick, considering what I’m about to tell him.

“So, are you coming in or not? I’m turned away from the door and angling my tail downwards so you don’t see my ass either.”

I sigh. I open the door and walk in, closing it behind me. The steam in the bathroom has fogged up the mirror completely, and I can only vaguely make out Joshua’s figure through the glass. Maybe that’s why he told me to get in? It’s pretty warm, cozy, and it smells nice. Soap, shampoo, and conditioner. I feel a bit of a fruity smell. Indeed, Joshua is turned away from me, and has his tail aimed down, covering himself a bit. I guess this is as good as it gets.

Since he’s turned away from me, that means I can stare as much as I want.

Bad thought.

“Well?”

Him speaking takes me out of my trance, and I notice that he’s shampooing his mane. “Oh, yeah, it’s just… a thing I wanted to say.”

He continues.

“Well, it’s what I wanted to do yesterday at the party before…”

Joshua sighs. “I understand. Just say it, please.”

I take a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m gay.”

That gets him to stop working the shampoo into his hair.

“I realized after some experimentation on campus that I’m really only attracted to guys, and that this would explain why every time I tried to get a girlfriend and do stuff with her it’d end horribly. I’d never tried anything with a man before, and when I did it just… went great.” Somehow, I’m feeling bashful. Even though Joshua’s turned away from me, I can feel like I’m being stared at directly. I grasp my left arm. “So, uh… that’s all, I guess.”

After a few seconds in silence, wordlessly, Joshua turns the faucet and lets hot water fall on him, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. “Nice. I can’t say I expected that.”

Well.

I know it’s Joshua that I’m talking about here, but I expected a bit more of a reaction than… just that.

He closes the faucet again and squeezes some conditioner into his hand before running it through his mane. He takes good care of his hair. “Hey, I realize that coming out is a difficult ordeal for many people, and you probably expected more of a reaction, but I… don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry.” Again with the apologies. “I can only really offer support and… guidance, I suppose. I don’t know how long ago you had the realization, but I imagine you have a few questions, and, well… I’ve known I’m gay my whole life, and I’ve been living on my own for a good few years now. I can probably help.”

For a moment I feel he mutters the word help again. “Oh, I… guess? I haven’t given it much thought. I just wanted to come out to you all because you’re my friends and I knew you’d be supportive, so I felt you should know.”

“Mm. Makes sense. Who else have you come out to?”

“Nobody, actually.”

His hands stop. “So I’m your first?”

“Er… yeah. The wording feels a bit dirty, but yes, you’re my first.”

Joshua chuckles. “I guess the team dad is the first one that must know, huh.”

“I… hadn’t really seen it like that, but I guess it makes sense! You _are_ the team dad, so it makes sense for these concerns to go to you first!”

He snorts. “I’m glad.”

“You said that coming out is difficult. Was it hard when you came out?”

“Wouldn’t know. I’ve never done it.”

“Wait, huh?”

“My family doesn’t know, and when I got here I was never actually _in the closet_ so to speak. One of the first things you all learned about me is that I like men. I can’t say I’ve ever had to _come out_ to anyone, in that way.”

Actually, that makes sense. “Why haven’t you come out to your family? If I may ask, that is.”

A pause. “No need to. I live thousands of miles away from them, send money back home for my little brother’s tuition, and I know it would end badly. Conservative catholic family in a conservative catholic country, you know?” As he says that, I think of the cross necklace he wears. “Maybe my little brother will find out later. The newer generation is different, but for now, I have no real reason to want to come out to them.”

“Oh… I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. I came to terms with the fact that I’d need to keep it under wraps when I was a teenager. It’s only gotten easier since then.” He finishes spreading the conditioner through his mane and turns the faucet again, rinsing it off. “Besides, I’m out here, and reaping the benefits of it, so why should I care?” A chuckle.

“I… guess that’s true. I’ve just never had to think about it in such terms.”

“Do your parents know, then?”

“Not yet, but… I get a feeling they’ll be okay with it anyways. They’ve always been pretty progressive about this sort of thing.”

Joshua looks down. “I’m really the first person you’re telling, huh?”

“Er, yeah…”

“Well, besides the roommate you experimented with, I suppose.”

“No, actually, I think I just told him I was still mulling it over the last time we met… I feel kinda bad about that. I probably should give him a definitive answer.”

A pause. Joshua chuckles. “Wow. Now I feel special.” He finishes rinsing the conditioner off and pulls his hair back, twisting it into a bun. There’s something… odd about the way he can just casually have a conversation like this while butt naked and taking a shower. He really has no modesty about his body, huh. Not that I can complain very much. “Though, since you’re gay…” He grabs a bar of soap and starts rubbing it into his fur. “That must mean you’re enjoying the spectacle, huh?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, James.” The armpits. “You’ve really got this big slab of meat naked, in the shower, talking to you while he cleans his body, and you’re getting to see every part of the process.” The chest, and he’s moving down. “Since you’re gay you must be liking it, right?”

“Heh… well, now that you mention it…”

He keeps lathering himself up, but I see his ears twitch a bit. I’m… impressed at how thorough he is at cleaning himself, actually. I see his tail start slowly swaying side to side, as well.

“…yeah. You’re… well, I bet you know this, but you’re a very attractive guy, Josh. And it _is_ nice to see someone with your body just washing up, you know? I’m really trying to not sound like a pervert saying this, but it’s… a very nice sight. Very nice muscle, too. The kind of body you’d really dream to be able to touch, and get your hands on… I bet it feels nice.”

The more I talk, the slower Joshua’s hands get. The swaying of his tail stops as well, and his ears angle downwards. There’s just no reaction from him at all.

He mutters something, and I don’t quite catch it. I feel it sounds like ‘would you like to touch’ but I feel I could be wrong, and I’d rather not make a mistake like that. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Huh?” He jerks his head to the side.

“You said something just now, right?”

Joshua takes a deep breath. “I don’t think I did. It probably wasn’t anything important.” Wordlessly, he sets the bar of soap down and begins rinsing the foam off his body – efficiently. He’s working a lot quicker than he used to. It doesn’t take him long to finish, and he closes the faucet one last time, shaking his arms a bit. “Okay, turn around now, unless you _really_ want a face full of soft, clean lion cock.”

“O-oh.” It’s interesting to have it put in such terms. I turn around to face the door, and I hear the glass door swing open behind me. Joshua presumably reaches for the towel. I can hear a towel rubbing against fur, at least.

“Okay, you can turn around again if you want to.”

I do, and I’m greeted by a no longer naked Joshua. I try not to look down to his groin, because I imagine that if he’s big, he’s probably got a bit of a bulge there. What is happening with me today?

“Enjoy the sight, because I’m not enjoying any sights anytime soon. I’m blind as a bat without my glasses.” He walks up to the mirror and runs the back of his hand against it, to clear up the fog a bit. He grabs something from a cabinet, and it isn’t until he opens it that I realize what it is… a razor. One of the old fashioned, sharpened blade ones. He leans forward against the mirror, brings it to his face… and gently starts trimming some hair on it.

“Oh, that’s…”

“One of the old razors, yeah. It’s the best thing to maintain the kind of facial hair I’ve got.” A handful of stray hairs slowly fall to the ground, and the shape of his beard sharpens. That’s pretty cool, actually.

“You put a lot of care into how you look, huh?”

Joshua closes his eyes. “Not to sound vain, but yes.” He finishes cutting hairs, closes the razor, and examines his face on the mirror. “It doesn’t really hurt, and the end results are nice, as well.”

“Have you ever nicked yourself with that razor?”

“Yes. It’s a sharp blade, James. It’s not a question of _if_ it happens, but _when_ it happens.” A pause. “In my case, _when_ is several years ago. I wasn’t even in this country back then. I’ve gotten better since then.”

“Oh, wow… I’ve only ever used the safety razor kind.”

“That works as well, and it works wonderfully if you just plan to keep your face shaven, but that isn’t what I have going on. So, I got one of these, and it’s what I’ve used since then.”

A few seconds of silence as he continues working. I almost want to say something, but I’m not sure what. Joshua sighs and puts the razor back on the cabinet, sweeping hair away from his face with his hands.

“Look, I understand if this isn’t what you expected to happen when you came out to me. I don’t want to repeat myself much, but I get that it’s an important part of each person’s self-discovery journey, and maybe you expected something more dramatic or bombastic… but that’s just not how my personality is. And I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes and blinks slowly. “You know how it is with me, James.”

“No, it’s fine… I got to come out to a friend, and it went well. I don’t really want to ask for any more than that.”

A snort, though a somewhat bitter one. “Yeah. I bet.”

Joshua turns to face me, but his reflection doesn’t. He crosses his arms, and his now independent reflection crosses them as well.

“You say that, but it’s just better, psychologically speaking, to have an expected reaction, and to have other people give you the importance you yourself give to specific topics like these. It’d have been better if I’d reacted with more excitement, but I can’t bring myself to do that. I can’t bring myself to lie to you like that.”

My eyes drift back and forth between the Joshua talking to me and the Joshua in the mirror, whose lips flap just like the real one. It’s still staring straight ahead, doing the same expressions Joshua does, but… not acting like a mirror at all.

“So… I guess this is just what you get. I’m sorry.”

“I…”

I don’t know what to say. I’d like to reassure him that it’s fine, but I’m too distracted by what’s happening in front of me. The reflection now turns to face me – not my reflection, like you’d expect a mirror to work, but _me_ , the one outside the mirror. Now I have two Joshuas looking at me.

“Just admit it to yourself, James. It’s okay. I won’t get offended, but I’ll try to be more supportive from now on, alright?”

I’m staring directly at the mirror Joshua and don’t reply. My mouth hangs open slightly.

Joshua blinks a couple of times, and he turns to face the mirror. His reflection doesn’t turn back, and keeps staring at me. It frowns when Joshua himself frowns. I can see its gaze go blank, before it turns to face Joshua, like a normal mirror would. Joshua reaches to it… and touches the mirror, trying to pick at something. “…I left some white fur on the mirror. Is that what was distracting you?”

Was… it all in my head? Did Joshua not see anything? “Oh, uh…” How would I even go about explaining such a thing? “Yeah, sorry, I was just… distracted by that.”

“Mm. You’ve always been very detail oriented. I guess it’s a good quality in artists. I’ll clean the mirror up later.”

“Oh, about what you were saying… it’s alright, really. I get that that’s not how your personality works, and that’s alright, Josh.”

He chuckles, turning to me and putting a hand on my shoulder. He gives me a gentle smile. “…you don’t have to lie to me and yourself like that, James.” A pause. “But thank you. I’d offer you a hug if I wasn’t half naked right now.”

Would that really be a bad thing?

He looks down. “…so, since I know you’re attracted to me, do you want me to start wearing more or less clothes around the house? Because I’m comfortable with my body, but maybe you’re not. I’d like to know.”

That catches me off guard, and I blush a little. “Uh… just the way you’ve been going about it is fine. Really.”

A snort. “Alright.” He pushes me to a side gently and opens the bathroom door, walking out. It’s colder outside the steamy bathroom, but he just walks out there like it’s nothing… “I’m going to get dressed in my room, so I’m going to lock it. I’ll let you in once I’m ready.” And, with that, he locks the door.

Standing under the frame of the door, I’m left wondering what that was all about. I look at myself in the mirror… but it behaves like a normal mirror for me. More thoughts occupy my head, however… like how having him shirtless makes me appreciate how Joshua crossing his arms pushes his chest out. It’s strong and ample, and looks comfortable. The gentle touch of my shoulder, as well…

I’m really fucked up right now. I leave the bathroom, flick the light off, and head down to the living room. Might as well spend time there while Joshua gets dressed.


	4. Tuesday's Shield (Part 2)

I don’t have to wait for long before Joshua comes down, which I’m glad for because scrolling through no notifications is mildly boring, to put it gently. My social media’s art galleries are fine, but they could stand to be a bit more engaging right now, and it seems like I’ve exhausted all the new posts. I turn to the stairs, seated on the couch, a bit too eagerly for my taste…

Joshua’s footsteps are slow and heavy as he descends. Did something happen? I get up and walk up to him, noticing he’s slowly going down and checking out his phone, brow furrowed. “Hey.”

He keeps descending the steps and doesn’t even look up at me when I speak to him, only emitting a grunt to show he heard me.

“Did something happen?”

A pause. He types something on the phone and hits what I can only assume is a send key, because I can’t see his screen, but the motions feel familiar. He looks up, regarding me with a neutral gaze. “No. Why?”

“You just feel like you saw something serious or heavy on the phone… any bad news?”

“No news.” He looks back down and keeps typing. After he gets a new message notification, he closes his eyes and sighs softly. “It’s nothing. Nothing you should concern yourself with.”

“Oh…”

He crosses his arms and closes his eyes once more, head tilted forward slightly. “Hey, I’m going out for a bit.”

My ears perk up. “Where to?”

He stares at me blankly for a couple of seconds. “Brett’s. He needs help with something, actually.”

“Oh!” That must have been why he was so serious and somber going down the stairs. “By car, right?”

“It’s on the other side of town, so yes.” He turns away, towards the garage, and starts walking.

“Can I come?”

He stops. “…why?”

That gives me pause. “I… don’t know. I just think it’d be nice to see him, and maybe I could help too.”

A pause. “It’s nothing you could help with. I don’t think. It’s not your business, either.” His tone is so flat that I can tell he isn’t being hostile, but I wish he was less dry sometimes.

“I mean… he’s a friend. I could at least try.”

“You couldn’t. Trust me.”

He taps his foot against the ground a few times… before seemingly changing his mind.

“…sure, come along. Why not.” He keeps moving towards the garage. “Quickly. I’m leaving in two minutes.”

“Wait, but I haven’t showered yet.”

He sighs. “Go do that. Quick shower, please.” Almost on cue, he takes his phone out of his pocket to send another message. Maybe telling Brett that he’s going to be late.

I don’t know what’s got Joshua so frustrated, but I feel it’s probably in my best interests to obey and shower quick. It’s a good thing I don’t have the long hair that he has, or else I’d take a lot longer in here. I don’t know how he does it, honestly. I had a few roommates that also had long hair… and sharing a bathroom with them was agony. I didn’t contemplate that when I decided to ask Joshua to stay at his place. It’s too late to reconsider, and at least there’s more than one bathroom here, in case of emergencies. I’m glad I probably won’t have to clean the sink of Joshua’s shower…

One quick shower later, and with my headfur still wet, I quickly get dressed in the bathroom and step out in the living room. Joshua is sitting there, seriously looking at his phone, and he gets up the moment he hears the lock click… did he anticipate me leaving the bathroom at that moment?

“Good. Let’s go.” He starts going to the car, and I follow shortly after him. The headrest of my seat might get a bit wet… but considering his own mane is still slightly damp, he might be used to that by now. Wow, that thing absorbs a lot of water.

We get strapped in and he starts to drive. It’s a short and uneventful drive – small town and all. He doesn’t talk. He doesn’t even make an attempt at conversation. Strange. I could say that this is just a consequence of how quiet and dour he is most of the time, but it feels different this time around, like he’s extra focused on whatever it is that he’s going to help Brett with…

We pull up to his apartment building, Joshua turns the car off… and then he does nothing. With his hands still on the steering wheel, he looks down, like he’s deep in thought.

“…hey, anything wrong?” I speak up.

He blinks a couple of times. Then, he unlocks the car, all locks going up. “Actually, I… think it’s for the best if you wait here in the car. I’m sorry for telling you this so suddenly, but I just had that realization.”

Now that’s alarming. “Wait, Joshua, what’s going on?”

“Nothing bad, but I don’t know if Brett wants you to know. I’ll be right back.” He takes the keys out, opens his door, steps out, closes it, and then locks the car, walking towards the building, trying to lock me in here.

“Trying” being the operative key word here. While he wasn’t paying attention, the moment he opened his door, I opened mine as well – just a crack – and he didn’t seem to notice when he closed his door and locked the car. The lock went off, but the door is still open. I’m not sure what pushed me to do that – what even gave me the know-how that I could do something like this in the first place.

Slowly, to not make the alarm trip, I remove my seatbelt and push the door open as little as needed for me to step out. My antlers would have gotten in the way and forced me to open the door more if I didn’t keep them short like this – I am suddenly grateful I take that medication.

Now outside the car, I push the door closed, gently. I don’t know if pulling at the handle will make the alarm trip, so I don’t try it, but it’s flush against the car’s body, so it must be closed well. Pushing on it doesn’t make it go down any further.

Joshua is already in the building. The gate to the building is still open and slowly swinging to a close – I jog up to it and hold it open, pushing it in, cursing the loud sound it makes as it turns, before I’m in the building as well. I know where Brett’s apartment is, and I can hear Joshua’s footsteps up above. The building is strangely silent right now. I try to make my steps as quiet as possible, but I don’t have a predator’s reflexes, and I also have no kind of stealth training – I’m about as stealthy as a decently light artist can be.

I hate the term twink.

As I turn the stairs, I hear a door open, and I know that it’s Brett’s apartment door. Training my ears a bit, I can hear what they’re saying…

“…hey man! Good morning!” That’s Brett.

Joshua doesn’t seem to reply.

“Hehe, you… wanna come in?”

“Please, let’s just get this done with quickly.”

A couple of steps, but no door closing. Joshua must be inside the apartment now. I crawl over, and peeping around the corner, I can see them both – Joshua’s back is turned to me, and Brett is fidgeting while looking up at the lion. He looks worried. “A-aha, won’t you let me show you some hospitality first?”

“That which you can’t afford?”

Brett grimaces.

“…look. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” He rubs his temples. “But… we both know why I’m here, Brett, and we both know that you _actually literally cannot afford any hospitality._ ” He puts special emphasis in that last part, like it’s poignant.

“Well, that’s…” Brett seems to be fidgeting harder, looking for something to say.

Joshua takes a deep breath. “How much is it this time around? Fifty? A hundred” Wait, a hundred what? He pulls out his wallet and digs in it—is Brett asking him for money?

Brett mutters something I don’t catch.

“A hundred and fifty.” Even though I can’t see his face, I can basically feel Joshua peering at Brett over his glasses. Brett seems to shrink. Joshua pulls out a couple of cash notes from his wallet and hands them to Brett. “Have two hundred. Keep the change.”

Brett’s hands tremble slightly as he takes the money, like he can’t believe he’s really holding it. “Are… you sure?”

“Yeah.” Joshua pockets his wallet once more.

“But this is… a lot. Oh, man…” A bit of happiness shows in Brett’s voice. “Thank you, man. Really. I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

Joshua crosses his arms and sighs. “…just like you made up last month’s hundred, and the previous month’s, and then the one before that? How much do you owe me in total now?” Brett opens his mouth to speak, but Joshua cuts him before he can complete. “Almost two thousand now.”

I gasp. _Two thousand dollars?_ What is Brett even doing that made him rack up this much debt? Wait, didn’t Joshua say last night that if I stayed with Brett he’d send over money to cover for my expenses? Did he just say that because he’s already covering for a lot of Brett’s expenses? How… does he even have the money to do all of this?

Brett heard me. His eyes shoot to me and his eyebrows arch. “J-Joshua, there’s… someone’s—”

“ _I know._ ”

Shit.

“I know that there’s someone there, I know who it is, I heard him chasing me, and we’re going to have a _very good talk_ when we’re done here.”

No use hiding my presence. It seems Brett hasn’t seen that it’s me yet, so I keep peeping at them. I can see Brett’s jaw start to tremble. “Y-you aren’t going to… beat him up, are you?”

Joshua seems to freeze up completely. His head slowly turns to face Brett head on, and his arms drop. He grabs his left arm and looks away. “…no. Jesus Christ, no. I would never do that to him. I… don’t solve my problems like that.” He sighs, and then continues in a lower voice. “I’m not Michael. Brett, please. I thought you thought better of me than that.”

What’s this about Michael?

Brett grimaces once more and looks away. “I’m… sorry, man.”

“Look. Like I said, you owe me almost two thousand now, but I’ve come to accept that you’re never going to pay them back. That’s just not within your circumstances. I’m… not going to ask for them back, alright? So stop saying you’re going to make it up to me. Stop letting your mouth write checks your body can’t cash.” He rubs the bridge of his nose, probably pushing his glasses up.

Brett puts the notes on the dinner table. “But…”

“But nothing, Brett. We’ve been at this for over a year, and I feel we need to change a part of this routine before it drives me insane, but you needing money isn’t going to change. Not yet, at least. Just…” He takes a deep breath. “Just keep going to your treatment and get better, alright? And then things will start to improve. That’s all I ask. That’s all the payback I need for… all of this.”

Joshua sounds incredibly tired. Treatment… for what, though?

Brett looks down sadly. “…okay. Thank you, big guy—”

Joshua stiffens up.

“—shit, sorry, I forgot, I forgot! I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright. It happens. I can’t ask people to memorize every last bit of trivia about me like that.”

What is it about that phrase that seemed to set him off so badly?

Joshua sighs. “Just take what I said to heart. Please.”

Brett crosses his arms. “Alright. And one last thing…”

Joshua’s ears twitch and his head tilts up as Brett speaks.

“Can I have a hug? It’s been a bit since you last gave me a hug.”

That’s an odd request from a straight guy. But I also don’t know what’s going on, and I specially… don’t understand what relationship these two have.

Joshua steps forward and wraps Brett in his arms. He’s so much larger than Brett. I can’t even see the salamander right now – only his arms, around Joshua’s torso and on his back. “Oh, yes, that’s the stuff…”

Joshua doesn’t seem to react.

Brett pats him on the back twice, and Joshua lets go. “That feels good. You’re very good at hugging, you know?” He seems to be in a better mood.

Joshua looks down. “I’ve been told as much. I think we’re done here, though. So just… store that somewhere safe, and lock your door well.” He turns away from Brett, and towards the door. I recoil, going back into hiding, but from how quickly Joshua’s yellow eyes darted to me, he knows I’m here, and he’s already identified me. He stops walking, though. “And…”

“Yeah?”

“Just hit me up if you need help with anything else, alright?” He mutters the next part lower than the first. “Like always.”

“Okay. I will. Thanks, man.”

The door closes. I hear the lock click.

Joshua turns the corner and he doesn’t even turn to me. He points at me – a black claw now on my face – and signals up, for me to stand. “You. Up. Now.”

Suddenly, a pit forms in my stomach. He’s mad. He’s got to be. He doesn’t turn to look at me as I follow him – he simply gets inside the car and opens the passenger side door… I feel like a little kid being lectured as I walk there. This distinct fear of a fatherly figure… Joshua is the team dad, but this is ridiculous. I don’t understand how he has such authority over me without actually saying much.

Such authority.

I enter the car and close the door. Joshua doesn’t lock the doors. He stares straight ahead… then sighs, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. “…I’m not angry.” He leans back on his chair, tired, and I feel the knot in my stomach unfold – that’s a mild relief. “I can’t even say that I’m disappointed, either. You’re… stupidly inquisitive and analytical when you want to, so I’m not surprised you did that. I should have known. I should have expected it.”

I stay silent.

“I bet you have a lot of questions about what just happened.”

“Well…” Questions doesn’t even begin describing what I feel after what I witnessed.

“To get it out of the way… yes, Brett owes me money.”

“For… what, though?”

“Rent. He usually can’t make rent with what he’s earning plus his spendings.”

“But he said he was going to save up, and—isn’t rent here very cheap anyways? How is it not enough?”

Joshua stays quiet for a few seconds. “I can’t explain that.”

“Is it like… a secret?”

“I can’t explain that, and that’s the only answer you’re getting.” He sighs.

“Okay… what was that about a treatment?”

Joshua squeezes his eyes shut and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I can’t explain that either.”

“Is Brett sick? What’s happening?”

“…in a way, yes. But I’m not telling you specifically with what. Because he wants to keep it secret from the others. He confided in me and nobody else is supposed to find out what it is.”

“Oh…”

“So that is why I didn’t want you coming. Because I knew that it’d end up coming up at some point, and you not knowing Brett needs money was important as well… but it happened. Because I can’t bring myself to say no to you.” He rubs his temples. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s… nice that you do all of this for him.”

“I guess.”

“How… long have you been lending him cash for?”

He stops to think. “It has to be a couple of years now. About. I haven’t checked.”

“That’s a lot of money…”

“It is. But I can take the hit, so why not.”

“Does it really not weigh on you at all?”

He pauses. “No. At all.” He sighs. “Look, let’s just… please forget this happened, alright?” He furrows his brow. “Nobody else needs to know about this. So let’s just move on, please.”

That’s… almost a pleading look on his eyes. I don’t fully understand what is happening or the circumstances surrounding this… but I also feel I’m not going to get another answer out of him. “…alright.”

“Thank you.” The relief on his face is palpable. “I’ll just keep helping him and you just keep… not mentioning it to anyone, alright?”

“Alright.” It gnaws at me, but I know there’s nothing else I can do.

“Alright.” He leans back on his seat and sighs. He locks the doors on the car – maybe he kept them open so I didn’t feel threatened? “Let’s…”

He’s interrupted by rumbling. Deep growling, coming from his stomach. He stops what he’s doing, and his stomach grumbles for a good five seconds straight.

“…Joshua?”

“Uhm…”

“Josh? Did you have breakfast this morning?”

He looks down.

“Josh… oh my God.” I rub my eyes. “You can’t just… do that, Josh, come on.”

Another sigh. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

I check the time on my phone. “It’s almost lunchtime anyways so… why don’t we go to the food court of the supermarket and have something for lunch? You need to eat, and I don’t want to wait until you’re done cooking. You have to eat something quick.”

He blinks a couple of times and stays silent, like he’s mulling over the proposal. “…alright. Heh.” A half-smile on his lips, and he pushes his glasses up. “Alright, yeah, let’s go have something for lunch.”

He turns the car on and slowly drives off, more calm this time around. I can’t imagine how his stomach feels – that’s how many hours without eating now? He can’t just do this.


	5. Tuesday's Shield (Part 3)

Arriving at the parking lot of the supermarket chain goes by uneventfully. We get out of the car and walk to the food court. Normally I’d ask Joshua what he wants to eat, but he’s been without food for a while, so I feel he should have something inside him and quickly. “How do burgers sound?”

He looks ahead, and it takes him a couple of seconds to register what I said. “…mm? Burgers?” He blinks. “Sure. That doesn’t sound bad.”

I poke him with my elbow. “C’mon, you could at least act excited about it. You liked burgers, didn’t you?”

He shrugs. “Maybe? I can’t… remember ever having strong opinions on them one way or the other. It’s food. It’s really just sustenance to me.”

Strange. I swear he told me a few years back he really liked them. “Huh, alright, but—at least we’re getting something and quick. You can’t just spend all this time without eating!”

He snorts and looks away. “…almost feels like you care more about me eating than I do. Heh.”

We walk to the restaurant – the same one Tyler and I had lunch at a couple of days back – and get ready to order. Joshua crosses his arms and looks up at the menu for a few seconds… then looks down at the person manning the register. A bull, this time around. A bull in a restaurant that does beef burgers… I guess it might be mildly awkward to some people, but all kinds of people eat all kinds of meat and other products from all kinds of ferals, so I guess it’s alright. I think a few of my roommates ate venison in the past.

More worrying was the fact that they told me that to my face, and waited, expectant, like they were awaiting some sort of reaction out of me. _That_ was the disturbing part.

Joshua clears his throat and cants his head my way, without looking at me. “Do you already know what you want?”

“Oh, yeah. Can’t go wrong with the double cheeseburger combo!”

He remains silent for a few seconds. “Heh. That’s what I was going to order too.”

That gets a chuckle out of me. “Are you _sure_ you didn’t ask me just to get an idea for what to order?”

He slowly turns his head to me and arches an eyebrow, groaning in disapproval. Still, he steps forward, and catches the employee’s attention. A cheerful nod from him, but I wonder how he can see with his hair on his eyes like that. “Welcome! What will it be?”

“Good afternoon. Two double cheeseburger combos, please.”

He dials the order into the register and yells in the general direction of the kitchen. Even though the little microphone to contact the kitchen is right there. Huh. He turns back to us and claps his hands. “Anything else?”

“No, just that.”

“Alright…”

We get our price, and I take out my wallet—

Joshua holds a hand up above it as he pulls out his own, opening it with just one hand. “Nope.”

“I—huh?”

“You’re saving money, aren’t you, James?” Without turning to look at me, he takes out a few dollar notes and hands them to the cashier. For a second, I wonder how much cash he carries in that, since he gave Brett a pretty healthy amount of money just some time ago – and he still has enough to treat me to lunch…

“Oh, yeah… thanks, really.” I can’t help blushing a bit.

His eyes dart to me for a moment and he arches an eyebrow. He probably noticed my reaction. Ugh.

The cashier gingerly takes the money from Joshua, hands him his change, and then… keeps looking at him. Probably, it’s hard to tell with his haircut. “Er…”

“Hm?”

“Are you _sure_ that will be all, sir?”

Joshua blinks a couple of times. “I don’t think I follow.”

“Well…” He looks at me, and then back at Joshua. “You know, I’m, uh, _an ally._ And we have some special plans for… _couples_ , like making your order a bit bigger free of charge, heart shaped candy, and these free store-branded drink coasters for you to take with you, if you’d like…” He’s a bit bashful as he speaks.

Wait.

Is he thinking that Joshua and I are a couple? What right does _he_ have to be bashful after dropping all that on our laps?

The sudden accusation catches me so off guard that I really don’t know how to react. I keep staring at him, straight ahead, but I can feel my cheeks start to burn up. Fuck. No, we aren’t a couple, and I don’t know what gave him that impression. What… what kind of assumption is that to make out of people? “I—” I need to tell him we aren’t a thing, but it’s like the words catch in my throat a bit. “We’re not—”

I can feel Joshua’s eyes dart to me for a split second, and he lets out a sigh, looking off to the side. “…we are not a couple.” He scratches the back of his head. “We aren’t a couple. We’re just friends that are getting lunch together. I thought that was a thing that people could just do here in Canada.”

It’s like the cashier visibly deflates, bless his heart. “Oh…” How eager was he to try and help a gay couple like this? He looked giddy, almost, as he said all that…

“And… thank you for your allyship, because _I_ _am_ gay, but that isn’t really the sort of thing you should really be assuming out of people, I have to say.”

The cashier sighs. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“No, no, it’s alright. God, I shouldn’t be lecturing a cashier I have never met in my life like this…” He runs a hand through his mane.

A cook comes out with our orders already on trays. I guess they had most of this stuff prepared already. The smell of the burger hits me and my mouth begins to water. I think I can see Joshua gulp, but maybe I’m imagining things. The cashier nods at us. “Oh, your food—thank you for your patronage!”

“Thank you as well.” Joshua grabs both trays, not letting me even get close to mine, holding one in each hand. “Let’s go, James.”

I guess, for a moment, I can see why the cashier assumed we were a couple. But… that’s just how Joshua is with everyone in the group – this level of service is just how he is.

We make our way to a table, and Joshua sets down one of the trays, before taking his and sitting across from the one he just set down. “Oh, thanks.” That’s mine, then.

“Mm.” He takes a seat… and keeps looking at my food.

I look down at it. “Is something wrong, Josh?”

He looks up at me. “…no? What could be wrong?”

“Well, you’re looking at my food and not touching your own…”

“…because I’m waiting for you to start eating?” He snorts. “It’s not that deep, James.”

The disbelief in my face is so palpable that it wipes the smirk from his. “Oh my—Josh!” I sigh, grabbing a fry and chewing it. “Come on! You’re the one that didn’t have breakfast! Start eating!” He chuckles. I grab one of his fries and aim it at his mouth. “Here!”

He looks down at the fry right in front of his nose… and then back at me. The inquisitiveness of his gaze makes me realize how intimate and romantic this gesture is – I wouldn’t blame that cashier if he was looking at us and still wondering if we’re actually a couple or not. I almost put the fry down, already feeling my face heating up… but he parts his lips a little and grabs it with his teeth. We stay in that position for a second, until he pulls back, fry between his lips like a cigarette. He leans his head back and lets it fall into his mouth, before chewing. I realize my hand is still stretched out and I pull back. I couldn’t make this any more awkward even if I tried.

Joshua clears his throat and takes a sip out of his soda, before grabbing the burger with one hand. “…anyways.” Seems like he wants to move on. Also seems like it didn’t affect him as much as it affected me, but you can never tell with him. “Not to… try and beat a dead horse, but I’m still impressed by the raw… _courage_ that cashier had, just making that assumption about us.” He takes a bite out of his burger, looking down. “That’s just not something you ask two men like that.” He looks at me. “It _isn’t_ the sort of thing you just ask people, right?”

“Oh—you’re right, it’s not really normal to just ask that out of people, yeah.”

“Mm. Was just wondering if I missed some Canadian cultural convention and that was more normal here or something.” Another bite. I start on my food as well. “Doesn’t seem terribly likely, given the fact that we’re in a little town and all. That kind of progressivism is only something that you really expect in the big cities, I’d wager.”

“Yeah, you’re right…”

He looks at the cashier, who fortunately seems distracted with something else. “His heart’s in the right place, at least. But he’s probably not from here. Though, what do I know. I’m not from here either.” He takes a bite out of his burger, still looking at the cashier. “But asking that sort of question can get you in trouble. Or, at least it could, in my country.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Joshua takes a deep breath. “There’s really not much to say about that, honestly. It’s just that it’s a conservative, Catholic country. Even the biggest, richest, most progressive city in the country, with a vibrant gay district that contains the biggest gay bar in Latin America still gets reports of hate crimes against people like us. Regularly.” A sigh. He looks down. “If you go up to two men you don’t know and you ask them if they’re a couple, that’s just asking for trouble. You could get verbally abused, physically beaten, stabbed, or…”

He looks at me, his gaze lingering for a second before he clears his throat.

“…anyways.” Did I make some face that told him I was uncomfortable with that or something? “The point is that things are different _back home_.” He pauses for a second, setting his burger down and crossing his arms. “But I wonder how meaningfully it is _home._ I’ve been here for six years or so by this point, most of my adult life.”

I keep eating. “Well… you know what they say, right?”

He arches an eyebrow.

“ _Home is where the heart is_ and all that. It really depends on where you feel more at home and happier, you know?”

He seems to think it over for a few moments. “Then maybe New Blackden is my home. The culture is different, and foreign, and it’s too cold for my taste, and sometimes you can feel othered. But it’s also where I’ve built my life, and where I earn money… and where my friends are.” A half smile creeps up his lips. “Yeah. Home, I guess.”

Feeling othered, huh?

“Then that settles it, right? You’ve got your home country, but you also have a home here!”

“Mm. Guess I do.” He goes back to eating. “I… didn’t expect you to hit me with that caliber of phrase, though. What are you, an auntie sending chain mails?” A chuckle.

“Hey, that’s rude!” I consider reaching over the table to punch his shoulder, but the gesture would be awkward and I don’t want to inject any more awkward into the situation. “You know what _I_ didn’t expect?”

“Yeah?”

“For you to start lecturing the poor cashier like that!” I laugh. “You’re really just a dad type through and through, you know?”

Joshua closes his eyes, grimacing, as he buries his face in his free hand. “James, come on. Don’t say that to me. Please.” He chuckles bitterly. “I’m just 28. Don’t go around saying that I’m a dad type already.”

“I mean, come on, you’re the one that does things for all of us, you know? You cook for us regularly, you keep the group together, you help us with stuff and all… I don’t know how else to say it, but you’re really the heart of the group, in a way.”

He chuckles, finishing his burger… then looks down, like he’s suddenly in thought. “I guess I am.”

Somehow, I feel I know what he’s thinking of. If I managed to notice the group was fraying at the edges just being here two days, and witnessing that fight… and if it’s true that such fights are regular events… I don’t know how that reflects on him. Actually, I know that it reflects well, because he obviously still cares for the group, but I wonder how _he_ feels it reflects on him. “…hey, don’t worry about it too much.”

He tilts his head at me, quizzically.

“I mean… I don’t know what’s happened since I was gone, and about those fights that apparently happen regularly—” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “—but I don’t think that it’s your fault, alright? I don’t… think it’s anyone’s fault, actually.”

Joshua is… completely emotionless. He just looks down at his food and continues eating. “You’ve been gone for far too long, James. Some things have changed here while you were out there getting your degree.”

And… suddenly I feel guilty for leaving.

Maybe it shows on my face or something, because Joshua’s eyes look at me. “Not that that’s a bad thing, mind you. I’m never going to give someone shit for wanting to study and improve their life. You’re not to blame for any part of what has happened here… you were simply not a witness for it, because that’s what happens when you aren’t in town for that long. And that’s fine, really.” He stops talking and pulls out his phone. He scans something on the screen – maybe a message – and types up a response with one hand before setting his phone down on the table. His fingers are pretty fast.

Still, I sigh and look down. “I know, but…”

“But…?”

I don’t have anything to say.

“You don’t have anything to say.” He leans forward on the table, crossing his arms under his chest and resting on his forearms. “And that’s fine. Because you don’t actually need to say anything. I just gave you a truth, and now it’s up to you what you decide to do with it, alright?” He gives me a gentle smile. “But it’s also not something you should worry about.”

His phone vibrates. He grabs it and checks the notification, as I get back to my food. “Hey… thanks, Joshua.”

It takes him a second to respond, as he’s still composing a message. “No problem, James.” Message sent, and he writes another one.

“You want me to, uh, leave you alone while you write messages? It looks important…”

“…you saw my screen?” His voice is low, almost like he’s asking himself the question. “Anyways, uh, not really. It’s not that bad that I can’t talk.” He keeps eating fries as he messages someone… but his expression is slowly growing more serious by the second.”

“Right… but, no, really, thanks, Joshua. It’s like you always know what to say, you know? Like you’ve got a lot of wisdom for people and relationships in you, and it’s nice to hear.”

A pause. “Hey, don’t drop that wisdom thing on me. Again, I’m just 28, I’m not quite an old man yet.” A chuckle.

“Oh, come on! I just mean like… you’re very nice to listen to, you know?”

A longer pause. But he isn’t even looking at his phone’s screen now – he’s just looking down. “…I guess. Thank you, James. I…”

“Yeah?”

But no response comes. “Never mind. Just keep eating, yeah?”

“Alright, dad…” I chuckle and get back to my food, but Joshua keeps looking at his phone. His chewing gets slower. He takes a big gulp out of his drink, but his eyes never leave that phone. Whatever it is that he’s being told, it’s probably important. “…hey.”

It takes him a few seconds to reply. “Yeah?”

“Nothing, it’s just that you’re almost burning a hole into that phone with your eyes. Is everything alright?”

Another message sent, and he looks up at me. “Oh, yeah. Nothing you should worry about. Don’t worry.”

“I mean, it’s just like… it looks very serious. And I just want to say that if you have anything you want to talk about, you can always talk to me, alright?” I try to gently pat his shoulder across the table.

He recoils a little, and I take my hand back.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Oh, no, no, it’s fine, I was just distracted. You know… skittish cats and all.”

“Haha… hey, I guess we all have good and bad aspects to our species, huh?”

A long pause. “…right…” It’s like he’s hardly paying attention to me, fixated on his phone screen.

“It’s kind of odd to think about, isn’t it? Like, the way we’re all born a specific way with some specific traits so everyone’s life is different in that regard… you may have claws but you don’t have these… huge hoof nails that I’ve got going on, for example!” I look down at my hands. These nails are so thick I can’t use regular clippers or files to get at them. It feels like I have tree bark growing out of my hands and feet sometimes, and I need to keep them in check to use digital screens. “Pretty funny, as well, huh?”

No response. I look up, and Joshua’s looking at his phone, frowning.

“Hey, Josh? Is everything alright?”

Still no response, but his frown grows more intense.

“Josh? Wh—”

Without any warning, he gets up from the chair and storms off. I’m caught off-guard, but I get up and follow shortly after. He didn’t finish his lunch…

“J-Joshua? What’s going on?”

He keeps powerwalking outside, headed straight for the parking lot. Once he’s outside the supermarket he breaks out into a sprint towards his car—I can only barely catch up to him. Without speaking a single word he unlocks it, opens the door, gets in and gets strapped in. I open the other door. “Quick!”

I’m almost panicking at the sudden change in behavior. “I—alright!” Still, there must be a reason he’s acting like this. I get strapped in, close the door, and it’s like the instant my door clicks closed he turns the car on. He drives off, more aggressively than I’ve ever seen him drive, and faster as well. I’m pretty sure this is above the speed limit for our town. “What’s happening?”

No response. His eyes are fixated completely on the road.

It only takes us about a minute or two to reach our apparent destination – Tyler’s house. Joshua turns off the car, unlocks the doors, opens his door, grabs his keys—

And then he looks at me. And he hesitates for a second. Then, he tosses the keys at me. “Do whatever you want, but just lock the doors.” Then, he slams his door shut and storms towards Tyler’s house.

What is happening? Did Tyler have some sort of emergency?

I open my door and stumble out, closing it behind me and locking the car. Joshua is looking at something in the small garden around Tyler’s house. He moves a pot from the garden decoration around… and pulls out a key. A spare key for his home? Wiping some dirt off from it, he rams it into the lock and turns, opening the door. I run after him and, when he notices me coming, he lets go of the key and runs into the house. I take the key out of the lock and close the door behind me.

There’s heavy breathing and wheezing coming from within the house. Right in the direction Joshua is headed.

I push deeper in, and after a few moments… I’m met face to face with a hyperventilating Tyler. His eyes are wide and there’s tears in the corners of his eyes, but his gaze is unfocused, like he isn’t registering the world around him. Joshua, a couple of inches shorter, standing next to him, has his hands on the bear’s arms, and is trying to talk to him. “Tyler. Ty. Come on. I’m here. Tyler, talk to me.”

Tyler keeps wheezing and breathing heavily… and I start to recognize what is happening. These are all the signs of a panic attack. Tyler was having a panic attack. I see Tyler’s phone on the ground, the screen still lit, and what looks like a messaging app open on it – maybe he was messaging Joshua when it hit. Maybe that’s the reason Joshua knew in the first place.

Tyler’s eyes dart around the room, and they land on me. His breathing picks up and a whine comes out of his throat—

Joshua turns to look at me for a split second, and then he forces Tyler to turn around, still facing him. “I know. I know. That’s James. It’s alright. It’s just James.” His deep voice… takes on this calming quality when he talks like this. Slightly assertive, but also caring, like… like he knows what he’s doing.

Like he’s probably done this many times before. Just… _what_ happened while I was gone? Is this something that happens often?

He gingerly puts his hands on either side of Tyler’s face. “It’s okay. I’m here, Ty. It’s Joshua. It’s going to be alright.” Tyler’s breathing starts to calm down, and Joshua pulls him towards the bed, to sit him down. I walk into the room and, turning to the right, I see his laptop, with the webcam on, and a blank document open on it… the way it was a couple of days ago as well. The same document he was staring at back then.

…

We stay for a few hours, helping to ground Tyler. It’s surprisingly more grueling work than I’d imagine. Joshua orders me to bring blankets and water after a while, and it’s like he knows Tyler’s house better than Tyler himself does, only making me wonder even harder just how many times he’s done this before. How… many secrets are these people hiding?


	6. Tuesday's Shield (Part 4)

By the time we’re done, Tyler is comfortably wrapped up in a blanket, sitting on his bed, watching something on his TV. He owns so much anime. I don’t know what this is and I don’t know what the characters are saying because it’s in Japanese with Japanese subtitles, but he seems pretty engrossed by it. Joshua puts a glass of water on his nightstand, looks at the screen a few moments… then ruffles Tyler’s hair.

Tyler chuckles. “Thank you, Josh…”

It takes Joshua a few seconds to respond. “Sure.” He just smiles at Tyler, turns, and leaves. “Key stays where it was last time.”

Tyler nods and grunts in acknowledgement, before turning back to his show.

I wave Tyler goodbye and follow Joshua. He’s walking a bit slower now – though I guess anything counts as slower when you were sprinting into the house before. He opens the door, waits for me to walk out, and then locks the door. He hides the key in the garden, where it used to be. I’m glad there’s no neighbors around to watch Joshua do this.

As he approaches the car, he… doesn’t enter. He doesn’t even unlock it either. Instead, he leans back against it, crossing one leg over the other… and takes a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the pockets of his jeans. He squeezes a cigarette out of the pack, holds it with his lips, lights it, inhales, and lets out a puff of smoke…

And he pockets the pack of cigarettes again. He grabs the cigarette between his middle and index fingers, taking it out of his mouth, and he looks up, taking a deep breath.

He turns to look at me, and I feel seen. “Do you want one or something?”

“Oh? No… I already told you I don’t smoke.”

“Mm.” Another drag of his cigarette. “You were just staring so much, I wondered if you wanted one.”

“Sorry. I just don’t do it because…”

I hadn’t realized it until then, but as he fiddles with the lighter on his left hand, I notice how ornate it is. Expensive-looking, even. He must smoke very often, to own something like that. He didn’t used to smoke the last time we met. That, or he just hid it very well.

“Because it’s bad for you. I know. I’m aware.” A long, deep breath. “But it relaxes me. I feel I’m so high-strung all the time, and running on fumes, and this just keeps me going. So just… please let me have this.” There’s… absolutely no emotion to his voice. With a statement like that, you’d expect a pleading tone, or anger, but there’s nothing. “That’s how depressants of the central nervous system function.”

“I… wouldn’t know about that.”

“Neither would I. I’m not a doctor or biologist. I’m just vaguely aware of how it works. But it works.” He inhales, spitting out smoke above himself.

I cross my arms and lean against the car next to him. My shoulder brushes against his arm, and he turns to look at me, cigarette still in his lips.

He snorts. “What, you want me to put my arm around you?”

I blush and look away.

Still, he puts his arm around me, around the shoulder. I can feel my face burn, and I need to take a deep breath to compose myself. “I’ll take that as a yes. You North Americans are so weird with touch sometimes.” He shakes his head, scoffing. “If you want to be held, just say it. It’s that simple.” He taps the cigarette away from his body, making the ash drop to the ground. “Sorry if you end up smelling like smoke, though.”

“No, it’s… alright. I’m an art major – at least this smells better than weed. You don’t really smell like smoke a lot, either.”

He chuckles. “I like it when you blatantly lie to make other people feel better like that. You don’t believe that.”

I do. I feel Joshua smells very nice. I may not have a predator’s senses, but even like this, against his body, I can catch how he smells – cologne, soap, some sweat. Just… a man. A comforting sense of mature manliness surrounds him. It might just be the fact that his arm is surrounding me, and I can feel his taut biceps against my back, and the warmth radiating from his body… but this is very comfortable. I like this. I could stay like this for a long time.

…

I cross my arms, hugging myself. He looks at me. “I guess it’s getting cold already, huh.” He looks out at the horizon – the last rays of sunshine, as the sun sets. This makes him squeeze me tighter, it seems – and I let out a small squeaking sound. He chuckles. “Sorry.”

I look down. “Hey, Josh?”

“Hm?”

I’m not fully sure exactly _what_ I want to ask him, right here and now, but my mind is crawling with questions. Questions and feelings that I’m not fully sure how to handle right now.

Still, one question comes to mind, more pressing than all the others.

“Why…” I hesitate. “After all we did today, and seeing how it’s like this is just business as usual for you… why does Michael even say that you turned your back on us? Or… well, on _them,_ I guess?”

He stares at me for a good few seconds, and I feel like I did something bad. The hand on my shoulder squeezes me and he takes another drag out of his cigarette, before slowly exhaling. “Ain’t that a great question.” He looks down, then away, and then he snorts. “I don’t know. I… I honestly don’t know, and I wish I did. I don’t feel like I’m doing anything differently – I still go out of my way to help everyone as much as I can, just like I used to. Money and advice with Brett, grounding and advice with Tyler, exercise tips and advice with Michael. A lot of advice for him. But…” Silence. He shakes his head. “I don’t spend as much time as I could with them. I mostly keep to myself these days – to work, and planning, and coming out whenever they need help with anything. And, even when we hang out, together, as a group, I fall into the background a lot. You saw it happen, a couple of days ago, at the party. Everyone was talking and having fun, and none of you noticed I’d left. Not even you.” Suddenly, a pang of guilt hits my chest. “I guess that, too, is my fault. I don’t really help my case on that front.”

A drag, and he looks away, as the street lights above us turn on. He looks so distant. I guess it’s the vibe he has all the time… but something about tonight feels different. And that’s a heavy accusation he just made. A heavy statement to make about himself as well – and I feel I understand his inner world a bit better. It’s an achievement, because even though we’ve known each other for several years… I feel I don’t truly know much at all about him. He’s so quiet and reserved all the time. An enigma.

I wonder if he just feels unappreciated sometimes…

“…that’s ridiculous. It’s not your fault.”

He looks at me.

“I mean… I don’t want to speak ill of the others. But if you really do all of this for all of us, all the time, and he can’t see that, that’s… really his problem. God…” I grimace. I can’t believe I just said that. “I hate to put it in those terms, but I don’t know how else to put it. And—and I bet that Brett and Tyler are also grateful, and they see all you do for them.”

He looks down at me, and it feels like his eyes are scanning me all over. This sharp gaze of a lion… He snorts and looks away. “Yet, they also do nothing to stop him when he gets like this. They just withdraw, and I’m left to take the full brunt of his aggression.” A pause. “I don’t do anything to stop him either. I just let it happen, and then I pick up all the parts after he’s done, and we go back to business as usual, until it happens again.” He almost sounds tired… “…and I guess that’s also my fault.”

“Then… why don’t you do anything to stop him?”

His stare is blank, and he looks straight ahead, the cigarette hanging from his lips. I can’t tell if he’s thinking a lot, or not thinking at all. He leans back, takes a drag out of the cigarette so long it burns away the rest of it, and lets it all out slowly upwards… then he drops it to the ground, putting out the butt with his boots. “Just forget we had this conversation. They don’t need to know I feel like this.”

He fishes the keys out of his pocket and unlocks the car, letting go of me, opening his door and getting in. I get in on the passenger side door – I don’t think I can force him to talk anyways, so maybe the conversation is over. Not like this.

The ride back to his house is short and uneventful – it’s a small town. As we enter the garage and he turns off the car, I catch a whiff of smoke. I guess it _does_ end up on his clothes if you bother to smell closely.

He pats my shoulder. “Alright, get out and get ready. I need to make you dinner.” Then, he takes the keys out, opens his door, and walks out. I follow shortly after him. It’s night now. I’m not sure where the day went. I do know, however, that I’m hungry.

And given how Joshua didn’t get to finish his lunch this afternoon before we stormed out like that, and how big he is, maybe he’s feeling worse than me. Or maybe not, since he smoked before this and all… I’m not sure. I’ve definitely met people that smoke to eat less. I don’t think Joshua is one of those people, though. He’s just too big.

I hardly get to walk into the kitchen before the smell of meat assaults my nostrils. It seems Joshua discarded his jacket at some point and is already in front of the stove, skillet in hand. It smells like… pork. Hm, that’s alright. I sit at the bar, and a few minutes pass.

“Actually, I never asked.” He opens the fridge.

“Huh?”

“Did your diet change at all in college? Is there some type of meat you don’t eat anymore, for whatever reason?”

“Oh! No, anything’s fine with me, don’t worry.”

“Right.” And he closes the fridge again. “It just slipped my mind, but I should have asked, since you’re staying here with me and all. Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s alright.”

He just grunts in acknowledgement and goes back to cooking.

He takes a bottle of some sauce out of a cupboard, and when he starts pouring it into the sizzling meat I realize what it is – BBQ sauce. With a healthy dose of the stuff tossed in, he starts stirring, making sure it cooks evenly. He moves the meat to a side of the pan, opens the fridge, and takes out a bowl of something – it looks like cooked rice. He dumps the contents into the skillet and starts mixing things around… I think this is how you make fried rice, but I’ve never heard of a preparation that uses pork and BBQ sauce like this.

He turns the heat off and takes a plate out of a cupboard above the stove. Using the same wooden spoon he was using to mix, he pushes half the contents of the skillet onto the plate. He takes a fork out of a drawer, puts it in the food, and then puts the plate in front of me. “Here. Your dinner. It’s not really pretty, but it’s food.”

“No, that’s alright, Josh, it smells delicious!” I take a bite… “Oh, it tastes very good as well!”

I see the corners of his lips twist into a smile before he turns back to the stove and puts the skillet back down. “Drinks.” He opens the fridge and takes out a jar of what looks like ice tea, before pouring me a glass, and putting it in front of me. He sets the jar down on the counter. “Salad… do you want some salad with this?”

“Oh… just a bit.”

He squats down, retrieving a tomato from the bottom of the fridge, and comes back up. Taking a big knife out of the drawer, he starts dicing the tomato into bits, letting them drop onto my plate.

This is definitely a kind of service. Joshua is very dedicated. I also can’t help noticing that he did all of this for me before he even sat down to eat, himself.

He rinses out his hands under the sink, shakes the water off, and leans against the counter, eating directly out of the skillet with a fork… “Isn’t that going to scratch it?”

He looks up at me. “Cast iron.” He focuses on his food again.

“Oh.” Admittedly, I don’t know a lot about cooking, because most of my meals in college were the embarrassing student fare. Many simple things. I guess living with someone that actually knows how to cook means that you get to eat stuff like this more often. It isn’t the fanciest food out there, but it tastes good and hits the spot. I’m sure there’s a term for this, but it doesn’t come to my mind right now.

“Not to say it can’t get scratches. It’s just harder to scratch with a fork like this, and I’m being gentle. You haven’t heard my fork actually hit or drag against the pan, have you?”

I stay silent for a few seconds as he continues to eat. “…no, actually…”

“Well, there you have it.” A half smile.

He finishes eating before long, and I still have half the food left in my plate. He sets the skillet down in the sink, along with the fork, and drinks some tea… directly out of the jar, letting it fall into his mouth at a distance. Well, alright. When he’s done, he puts it back into the fridge, and comes to the bar, in front of me, crossing his arms and leaning over it, looking down. I try not to stare, but him doing this pushes his chest up and out, and since he’s wearing a tank top… it’s very eye-catching.

“…more food.”

My ears twitch. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

He looks up at me. “No, nothing. Just thinking out loud, again.”

“Oh.” I go back to my meal.

“It’s just that, since you’re here, I’m going to have to double the size of the meals I prep at the start of each week, since I’m cooking for two people now. It’s not a bother. It’s just something I hadn’t considered.”

“Oh…” I scratch the back of my head. “So, when are you going to have to prepare more food?”

“Well, today is a Tuesday. I prepared a bunch of meals at the start of the week to last me the whole week, counting on you staying here a couple of days. This means I should run out of prepared meals around Thursday, discounting the times we ate out and the food I didn’t make, like yesterday’s takeout and today’s burgers.” He scratches his cheek. “That’s twice now that we eat out… that isn’t really healthy…” It’s more like he’s musing to himself by this point.

“What happens on Thursday, then?”

A short pause. “Well, I’ll have to actually cook meals from scratch. But that’s alright. I’ll figure out what I do. Don’t worry about it.” A gentle, warm smile… and suddenly I feel it’s going to be alright. I probably shouldn’t be feeling this level of relief, since it’s just a talk about preparing meals – it’s not like we’re going to run out of food or anything.

And now I realize how a thought like that is the sort of thing married couples think about. Ugh.

I get back to eating, but I can’t help noticing Joshua looking at me. There isn’t really much of an expression on his face – he just looks peaceful as he looks at me. At me or, well, at least at my food. At the way I’m eating. “Josh?”

His eyes perk up and his ears twitch. “Hm?”

“Is something wrong?”

“…no?” He blinks a couple of times. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing, it’s just that you’ve been staring at me eating all this time…”

A pause. “I have?”

Has he really not noticed? “Yeah. I mean, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable or anything, but I did notice you were doing it, so I was thinking maybe you had something you wanted to talk about…”

He slowly breathes before shaking his head. “…no.” A low chuckle. “I don’t… no, there’s nothing on my mind right now.”

“Actually, now that I mention it, that’s… something you do a lot with us. Looking at us while we eat, that is. I can remember how sometimes, while we were on trips, you looked at us while eating as well. After you finished your food, that is, like… like you’re making sure we’re eating well, I guess. And specially when it’s something you cooked, because you also cook for us a lot…” I chuckle and look away. “I’m not… as perceptive as you, but am I right?”

His gaze unfocuses as he looks down, in the rough direction of my nearly empty plate. “…heh.” A small smile creeps up his lips. “I guess you’re right. I do stare at people a lot while they eat. Maybe it’s one of those things you do that you don’t even realize you’re doing. Usually… I’m the one that perceives that sort of thing in others. But I guess now you did it to me.”

He squeezes himself tighter and smiles. I smile as well. There’s a sort of warmth to the smile on his face right now, like what’s happening has him really content. It’s a nice sight. I now realize it’s not something I get to see very often either – but more often than not, I get to see it when he spends time with us.

The smile fades from his face. “…I’ll stop doing it if it’s making you uncomfortable.”

“Wait—” That’s sudden. “No, Josh, it’s not a problem! I don’t mind it!”

He looks up at me for a moment… “Alright, if you say so.” He takes a deep breath. “Finish your food quick so I can wash the plate, please.”

I just get back to my food. Luckily it’s a couple of bites and that’s it. I wonder for a moment how he’d react if I licked the plate to get the last bit of sauce out. He takes the plate and fork from my hands and nods at the mostly untouched glass of tea. While he washes the plate, the skillet and the utensils, I down the glass of tea, and then give it to him. I try not to, but a small burp escapes me. “Sorry…”

He just chuckles, not saying anything.

“And thank you for the food.”

“Sure.”

I turn away, intending to go back to his room—

“Wait.”

I freeze. Did something happen? As I turn to look at him, he closes the faucet, shakes some water from his hands, dries them with a towel, then turns to me. “Before I forget.”

Then, he approaches me and squeezes me into a tight hug, burying my face into his chest. This… catches me off-guard. My eyes go wide, before I realize what’s happening… but then I return the hug, appreciating the gesture. As I stand there, I realize that I really like how Joshua smells. Even through the cigarette smoke – I can actually catch a whiff of it now – I like how he smells.

He breaks the hug, looking down at me with this sense of… I can only describe it as paternalistic care. “Owed you that.”

I clear my throat. “But why? I mean… not that I don’t like it, but…” I’m trying my hardest to not break out into a blush right here and now.

“For this morning. For not really appreciating you coming out to me the way I should have. I’ve been… mulling over it the whole day, and I realized I probably should have given it more fanfare, because it was probably a big and important ordeal for you. And I’m sorry for that.”

“Hey, it’s alright…”

“But I thought I might as well properly congratulate you for that at some point, right? Better late than never and all that. You can turn to me whenever you need help with learning how this stuff works, or if you want to go out at some point and learn about gay spaces… just turn to me for that. And…” He pauses. “And I’m glad that you trusted me enough to make me the first person that you came out to. Well, first in our little friend group, that is, because I’m sure the guy you experimented with may have suspected some stuff.”

I sigh. “No, Josh… you’re for sure the first.”

He looks down. “Heh. I’m here for you, alright? And I’m glad that you discovered this about yourself. I hope you feel happy with it.” A warm smile… and now I’m definitely blushing.

“Thanks…”

“Of course.” He looks down. “…oh.”

“What happened?”

“You got some sauce on my tank top. Messy eater, aren’t you?” He chuckles, and there… is definitely a stain of BBQ sauce on his clothes shaped like my lips. Just how hard was I burying my face on his chest?

“Oh, I’m—”

Before I can say anything, he just takes it off. “It’s whatever. It was going into the laundry anyways.” He looks to the side. “Getting late. I’m going back to the bedroom. Just turn off the lights when you come up, alright?” He ruffles my hair. This gesture, and getting to see him shirtless… I am _really_ blushing now. I’m glad he’s already gone, so he isn’t here to see it.

He stops at the base of the stairs. “Boyfriends, huh…?” He scoffs, shakes his head, and runs up the steps. Maybe he’s still thinking of that little mix-up the cashier at the burger shop had…

Boyfriends…

…

Getting ready for bed goes by uneventfully. Before I know it, my teeth are brushed, and I’m already under the covers, with the lights still on. Joshua is still getting ready – he let me go first. I check a few last things on my phone.

I get a new message. It’s from Michael.

‘hey’

Mildly late, huh.

‘Hey’

His reply comes quick.

‘u wanna meet at th food court 2morrow’  
‘thing i wanna talk w u’  
‘not like just u’  
‘everyone else is coming too’  
‘my treat for whatever u order’

Oh, that sounds like a plan.

‘Sure’  
‘Lunchtime right?’

Again a quick response.

‘yes’  
‘just b there’  
‘and ask joshua if he wants to come ig’

And that’s the end of that. For a moment I wonder why he doesn’t just ask Joshua directly… but then I remember that whole mess yesterday. It’s not impossible that either Michael or Joshua don’t want to talk to each other, and maybe Michael is assuming the invite will be more successful if it comes from me directly.

…but now I’m a bit annoyed. If Michael has it in him to run his mouth like that, he should have it in him to talk to Joshua directly and fix things, no?

I shake my head. It won’t do me any good to get angry this late at night.

Joshua walks into the room, still shirtless, and with the fur around his mouth damp with water. He grabs the discarded tank top, still on the bed, and wipes his face dry with it, before dropping it on the ground. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

“Oh, no.” I’m too tired to deal with this right now, so I’ll just ask him tomorrow morning. I turn my phone off and set it down on the same place as last night. I guess I’m making Joshua’s job easier if he wants to leave a post-it note on it again tomorrow. I yawn, and my eyelids feel heavy. “Today was a bit of a heavy day, huh…?”

Joshua takes a very deep breath. “Just a bit.” He shakes his head and sits on the bed, removing his boots and jeans. “I know I’m probably going to sleep like a rock tonight. I hope so, at least.”

As he stands, I catch a sight of what he’s been wearing under his clothes all day… “Briefs, huh?” Black ones, but briefs nonetheless. Very dad-like. Very… snug.

“Yeah. Liking the sight?” He chuckles.

I clear my throat and look away.

“I know you’re gay, James. You literally told me this morning. Come on, you can just say you like it, I won’t mind.”

I scratch the back of my head. “Well… yeah.”

“There you go.” He falls silent, for a few seconds, looking down. “That’s nice, huh?” He closes the door of the room.

“What do you mean?”

He looks at me for a few seconds before taking his glasses off and putting them on the nightstand. “No, nothing. Just that it’s nice to get complimented like that, I suppose.” He pulls the covers of the bed back and turns off the lights.

“Just hit me up and I’ll compliment you like that more often.” I can’t believe I just said that.

He pauses. Then, he turns at me. “What was that?”

“Er, nothing. Don’t worry.”

After a few seconds, he snorts and shakes his head. I can still see the movement of his mane in the darkness. “Alright. Good night, James.” And he climbs into bed.

“Good night, Josh.” I finally lay down, pulling the covers over my shoulders.

“Good night…”

…

I don’t know what time it is now, but I know I haven’t been able to sleep at all. My body is resting, and I don’t feel quite as tired as I used to, but I know I’m for sure not asleep. I guess today wasn’t as taxing on my body as I thought it would be. I look over at Joshua… and he hasn’t moved at all since he put his head on that pillow. He must have fallen asleep quick… but it’s also not normal for someone to be this still while they sleep, is it? Still, he looks so serene… somehow, just looking at him like this is making me feel sleepy…

He twitches. My attention perks up, as he slowly twists out of the covers and stands. I think his eyes are still closed. I wonder why he got up. He must have been in quite the restful state of sleep, because he doesn’t look very awake right now…

Slowly, almost dragging his feet, he walks away from the bed. He moves by the nightstand, by the window with the closed curtain, turns to a wall…

…and then runs right into it.

I sit up.

Alright, he’s definitely not awake right now. Is he sleepwalking? Is this something he does? Wait, maybe these were the sounds I heard a couple of nights ago.

He runs into the wall again. Head-first. It almost looks deliberate now. “Josh?” My voice is a low whisper.

Again.

“Josh?” I try to speak louder.

He stops moving. He must have heard me. Is he going to wake up now? Wait, I think I read that you shouldn’t wake up someone that’s sleepwalking like this, shit.

Slowly, he turns his head to me. His eyes are indeed open now. Maybe he’s…

No.

His gaze is completely blank and expressionless, like there’s nothing behind the eyes. He must still be asleep.

“…ea…” He mutters something, but it’s too low for me to hear.

I’m not sure how to handle this situation. I contemplate for a few moments getting up and leading him back to bed, because I think _that_ is something you do with someone that’s sleepwalking—

He approaches me. The same slow, staggering gait as before. His blank gaze is fixated on me. He’s still asleep. He still has to be asleep.

I sink back into the mattress as a pit forms in my stomach. Joshua is now standing at the head of my mattress, looking down directly into my face… if it can be said he’s *looking* at all. Having the half-naked man look down at me like this is… bizarre. Through the pale moonlight that seeps in at the edges of the curtains, I can make out his features… there’s nothing. It’s just the same unnaturally attractive man I call my friend, half-naked, in tight underwear, right next to my sleeping place. But his face is completely empty.

“An…”

He speaks again.

“An… drea…”

This is a name.

“Andrea…”

Andrea? That’s… a woman’s name, right? That’s got to be a very interesting dream he’s having. Behind him, his tail slowly starts to sway side to side… and I see his bulge twitch slightly. And it starts to grow in size.

Oh no. That’s… an erection he’s getting. I don’t… Joshua is gay, right? Why is he having dreams of a woman and getting _excited_ because of them? If he’s even having a dream, that is, because this whole situation is… incredibly bizarre.

“An…” He starts to speak again.

Silence, as he keeps looking down at me.

“…James…”

Wait, that’s my name. Is he dreaming of me now? Did my voice reach him? The swaying of his tail stops, and the swelling in his underwear seems to be going down.

“…James…”

And he slowly turns back to his bed, getting inside the covers – badly – and going back to sleep, or so it seems.

After that bizarre spectacle… I think I can only try to go to sleep as well. I’ll try to bring it up in the morning, but suddenly I’m feeling very tired.

* * *

It’s Joshua. He’s half-naked, like he was the last time I saw him, but he’s with his back against a wall now, looking straight ahead. We’re outside, and if the fog is any indication, it’s pretty cold out. He doesn’t shiver and doesn’t seem to react to it… and I can’t actually feel the cold either.

The sharp crack of a gunshot, and part of the wall behind Joshua’s back is blown apart, a bullet entrance now on it. He doesn’t react. He just blinks. A few more appear – one next to his arm, one next to his leg, one between the legs, one dangerously close to the head… and he doesn’t react to any of them. But they’re getting closer to his body.

I panic. I try to tell him to get out of the way, but no sound comes out of my mouth. I try to walk towards him, and even though I feel my body moves in space, I don’t feel the ground under my feet. I look down, and I realize I don’t have a physical body. It’s like I’m just a disembodied consciousness moving through the air. I try to speak again, to no avail…

…and Joshua looks at me. It’s a lazy gesture – just the eyes – but he’s looking directly into where my eyes should be. He looks… incredibly tired. Out of nowhere, he produces a cigarette and a lighter, he lights the cigarette, and slowly slides down the wall, into a sitting position. He just… keeps smoking, as more parts of the wall keep being blown apart behind him. They’re moving down… and then they stop.

He looks up at the sky and lets out a lot of smoke through his mouth. Too much. Nobody has this kind of space in their lungs. The smoke mixes with the fog, and he fades away, as does the wall…

“That’s what you like, huh?”

A familiar voice behind me. Not one of my friends. Nobody from my family. Not one I particularly appreciate. I turn around—

A fist rapidly approaches my eyes—

And then the world is buried in darkness.


	7. Wednesday's Thorns (Part 1)

I slowly stir awake, realizing my snout is pressed against the pillow in a pretty uncomfortable angle. I try to get up and a sharp jolt of pain shoots through my neck. That wasn’t… restful sleep. After the things I saw last night I don’t think I’d really be able to sleep really well either, on top of the fact that I tossed and turned a bit without being able to sleep, but this position I woke up in… today is going to be an interesting day.

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and some pain out of my neck, I check out my phone… and see that it has a post-it note on it again…

‘your breakfast is at the bar, like usual.

~j’

Some writing below it.

‘i just realized this says the same thing as yesterday’s note, sorry.’

That gets a chuckle out of me. I turn on my phone and check the time… huh. It’s a bit earlier than my usual waking up time. Maybe that’s why it’s a bit darker than normal. If I train my ears, I think I can hear something cooking below. I’m definitely up earlier than usual.

I slip into yesterday’s pants and pocket my phone, heading out into the hallway.

I’m greeted face to face by Joshua. Not the real thing. The thing from yesterday, that was staring me down from the top of the stairs. It doesn’t breathe. It doesn’t smell like anything. It doesn’t even look alive. Its lips part slightly and a single word, with a raspy voice, leaves it. “Andrea…”

The same name Joshua – the real one – was muttering last night.

“What… the fuck?” I reach out a hand to touch it – the chest. My hand doesn’t come into contact with anything, when it logically should have. It keeps going in, sinking, into the black fabric of its tank top. Too deep. It feels like a void.

I blink, and it disappears. I’m holding my hand out into nothingness. My heart is pounding in my throat. I look around – there’s nothing around, and I can’t hear anything around me. Am I just… imagining things? What the hell? It’s the first time one of these things decides to appear so close to me, and it’s…

Something is flipped downstairs, falling onto a pan, and I jump a little. I shake my head. It’s probably best not to think too hard about it.

I come into the kitchen, to be greeted by Joshua… in his underwear. His ears are trained back, like he was listening to me approaching, and his tail sways lightly. “Morning.”

“Um, morning…” I take a seat at the bar, as usual.

He probably catches onto the slight agitation in my tone, because he turns to look at me. “Everything alright?” His expression is plain.

“Yeah, it’s just… I thought I saw you upstairs, but you weren’t really there, haha.”

He blinks a couple of times, before sighing. “Your hyperactive imagination again, I take it?”

“I… guess?”

“I don’t find any other logical explanation for you to be seeing things… are you sure you shouldn’t get that checked?”

I twiddle my thumbs. The problem is that I _have_ had it checked, several times, throughout my life, and they’ve never found anything wrong with me. It’s just a fact of my life, it seems, that sometimes I see things where others don’t, and I’ve always chalked it up to my imagination. That, and the voice of the imaginary friend I had growing up.

Though… now that I think about it, all that died down when I left town to go to school in Toronto. Huh. Maybe I was too distracted by my classes to see that sort of stuff.

“Er, I’ve had that checked and I’m fine, don’t worry.” I give Joshua a smile.

He looks at me for a couple of seconds before turning back to the pan in front of him. “If you say so.” He looks to the wall. “You’re up early today.”

“Yeah, I just couldn’t sleep much, I guess…” I rub my neck again – the pain isn’t fully gone. “I woke up in a really weird position, too…”

“Mm.” He swings the pan around and its contents flip – that’s a pancake. “Maybe you should go back to sleeping on the couch. Maybe it’s something about the mattress you’re sleeping on. You look sore.”

“Wh—no!” He frowns and turns to look at me. “I mean… no. I don’t think that should be necessary… it was just one bad night.”

He snorts. “Alright. Seems like you have very strong opinions on the matter and all.”

Another flip of the pancake. I’m not even sure how he’s doing it. “I don’t know if you’re supposed to flip pancakes like that.”

His shoulders drop. “You aren’t? Ugh… well, it’s still edible, I suppose. I wouldn’t know, since I don’t really eat this sort of stuff. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s alright…”

“Hah. I really went and looked up what sort of foods Americans have for breakfast to make it for you, and then went and fucked it up. Oh well.”

Oh… he was looking up stuff to cook for me? “That’s… really sweet of you, Josh.”

He tilts his head slightly. “Is it? It doesn’t seem like much of an ordeal for me. “Pancakes with fruit in them”, the site said, and I did that. It wasn’t really hard.” He takes a deep breath. “The amount of flour in this thing scares me, though. I don’t think I’m gonna have this for breakfast anytime soon if I can help it.”

I guess the flirty compliment went over his head. Maybe that’s for the best.

He takes a plate out of a cabinet and flips the pancake into it. He puts it in front of me, and fetches a fork and knife from a drawer, putting them next to the plate. He sets down a glass next to the plate, opens the fridge, and takes out some orange juice, pouring it into the glass. Supporting his weight on the bar with his arms, he takes a deep breath. “Do you actually want me to put a slice of butter on top of this? I know that’s something people do, but I’m not…” The slight grimace appearing on the corners of his lips tells me he doesn’t really approve of the practice.

“No, that’s alright, don’t worry.”

“Maple syrup? The real stuff, since we’re in Canada. I know that matters a lot to some people, but it’s just liquid sugar to me all the same.”

“Mm… maybe a bit.” But looking at the pancake in front of me, I don’t know if it’ll be necessary. There’s a lot of fruit inside it, and it’s pretty thick – strawberries, raspberries, blueberries… it looks and smells great.

Joshua looks around in a cabinet, _very_ deep in it, and takes out a bottle of syrup that has a light layer of dust on it. He obviously doesn’t use that often. He looks for the expiration date… and sets the bottle down in front of me. “Suit yourself. I don’t know how much you’d even want on this thing.”

He obviously isn’t too keen on what he just cooked for me – I can’t help laughing. “Alright, alright… thanks, big guy.” I grab the bottle, uncap it, and pour a bit of syrup onto the pancake, but I doubt it’s very necessary. It looks great as it is. Maybe Joshua doesn’t realize it because it’s all sugar to him, but the syrup sold up here _does_ taste different – and better.

He clears his throat, breathing deep, before turning back to the fridge. He whips out half of a papaya, and a pack of sausages. Probably for his breakfast. He starts making coffee, takes out a knife from the drawer, cuts a thick slice of the fruit, scoops out the black seeds with the knife and into the trash can, and starts dicing it on his hands, eating it bit by bit.

I don’t get to eat papaya often. It’s not a fruit that’s very common up here. But apparently he used to have it almost every day back home. Joshua has shown us some photos of the markets down there, and the variety of fruits is astounding… I know they’re a bit more expensive to get here, but he still eats a lot of fruit.

I chuckle to myself. Heh. Eats a lot of fruit. With a body like that, I bet he sure does.

I shake my head and dig into my pancake. I can’t quite comprehend how fluffy and thick it is – and the fruits inside look great. I bite into it… wow, this is delicious. A bit less sweet than you’d expect a pancake to be – maybe he’s using a different mix than the one I’m used to – but it’s still good. “Mmm…”

“Is it good?” He chews up another piece of fruit.

“Yeah… it’s very good. Even if you made it a bit odd, it’s still great. Don’t you want some?”

He furrows his brow, smiling and shaking his head. “No, don’t worry, I’m sure I don’t want any part of that.” He keeps eating. “But I swear I saw online articles saying you were supposed to flip pancakes while cooking…”

“Well… yes. But generally not like that, and usually smaller, flatter pancakes – not this girthy thing… It’s almost like a cake… I’m pretty impressed actually.”

He snorts. “Alright. I’ll try to perfect my technique to make you better pancakes moving forward.”

I chuckle and sigh. “Josh, that’s not what I meant, these are just fine…”

He just shakes his head and keeps eating his fruit.

Though, that does give me a bit of a question. “Josh?”

“Mm?” He finishes his fruit and tosses the skin into the trash can.

“How did you learn how to cook so well?”

He looks at me for a couple of seconds, pack of sausages in hand. He sets it down and crosses his arms, staring off into the distance. I don’t know why the fact that he is in his underwear hasn’t registered harder in my mind – he’s just out here half-naked, and I’m just having a conversation with him like normal… After a few moments, he speaks. “…the need, I suppose.”

“Hm?”

“Well, when you’re raised in a household without a father, and with your mother incredibly overworked and trying to raise two kids, you somewhat end up needing to fill in some responsibilities, you know.”

Right. Joshua never goes into detail about it, but I know he comes from a bit of a dysfunctional family background, from the few bits and pieces he’s dropped about his past here and there. “Oh…”

“You know, whenever people are struggling down there, we usually turn to family. Under normal circumstances, my father not being there anymore would have meant my mother would have moved in with some other relatives until she found her footing, and that’d have been the end of that.” He scratches his cheek. “But that wasn’t possible. My whole extended family was in a different department, and my parents were the first part of the family to move into the city. They went through hell to get there, and my mother wasn’t going to just throw it away and go back to the country. She just kept working and found another job when my father was outside the picture. She was very overworked at that point in time. We were already living in poverty, and then we lost one source of income. Not like anyone else in the family could send us money, because we’d already spent a lot to move to the city, looking for a better life.”

He turns off the stove, because his coffee is ready.

“It was tough. But we managed. I mean, I’m here. Obviously we managed. But mom needed help, and I… sorta ended up raising my younger brother as a result. I learned how to do chores around the house before I was ten whole years old – first just how to sweep, then how to mop the floors, how to clean surfaces… as I got older I learned how to do more chores around the house. Once I was around twelve or thirteen years old, I was taught how to cook. Simple stuff at first. Eggs, rice, stuff like that, just so my little brother and I didn’t have to go hungry. And mom kept working.” He looks down, like he’s reminiscing. “This _cooking for survival_ later became cooking for pleasure, and I learned how to add spices to food. How to condiment things, make it all delicious, and how to present it well on plates… and here we are, I suppose.”

“Oh, I… wasn’t expecting something so deep.”

He chuckles. “What, did you think I was going to tell you that I just watched a lot of cooking shows on TV and decided to imitate the stuff I saw there? This is just the way life is when you’re poor and have a single mother. I shouldn’t have learned how to do all this stuff so young. I sure shouldn’t have been manipulating fire or knives before my pubes even began growing in. But this is just the reality of things if you’re from a dysfunctional family background in a developing country. This is just how things are if you arrive from school tired but see your mother is passed out asleep at her desk, after a night of no sleep, and your little brother’s stomach is growling.”

I look down. I’m not quite sure what to say to that.

He shakes his head and snorts. “I got a bit depressing there. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, Josh… if I may ask…?”

He arches an eyebrow at me.

“Why is… your father not in the picture? If you’re comfortable answering, that is, I don’t want to force an answer out of you if you don’t want to give it…”

He looks at me for a few seconds. His gaze trails off, and he turns back to the pot of hot coffee. “Who knows. I never figured it out. I can hardly remember him. I just remember there was one point in time when my mother was married to someone, and then she just wasn’t. There was just no man in the house, so I had to become the man. It happened when I was so young that she could get away with saying that I was too young to understand – my little brother was still just a toddler then. And then, as I grew older and asked again, she just didn’t answer. I’ve never known, and maybe I never will.”

I keep eating in silence as he takes the pot of coffee and pours its contents into a mug.

“Heh. Can you believe it?”

“What?”

“It’s been… over two decades since that happened, and I still don’t know. I’m really never gonna find out, huh? Not that I care much, because I hardly knew the man, but it’s odd to think that I may never find out.” He falls silent, staring down his cup. “Two… decades. I’m twenty-eight years old. I don’t think about it a lot, but I’m also getting older.”

“Josh…”

A snort. “Don’t think that this is weighing on my mind or anything. It’s just stuff I never think about. Too busy making money to send some back home and helping you guys out with stuff.” He takes a sausage out of the pack and… just eats it whole. He hardly chews it, and down it goes. Damn. Roomy. “C’mon, finish your horrible flour-y mess before it gets cold.” He clicks his tongue and nods at my plate.

“Oh, yeah!” I go back to eating. Again, as he sips his cup of coffee, I can feel him looking at me – again, like he’s making sure I’m eating…

I finish eating and he moves in to grab my plate. I down my glass of orange juice and he grabs that as well. I don’t know how presumptuous it is to feel this, but… I feel out of us both, I’m the one that had the nicer breakfast. This full fruity pancake against some slices of fruit, a few sausages, and a cup of coffee… different tastes, I suppose. “Thanks, Josh.”

“Anytime.” He washes the dishes, cups and the knife he used and sets them on the rack to dry. He dries his hands… and rubs his temples, grumbling. “Urgh…”

“Is something wrong?”

He looks at me for a second. “No. It’s nothing. I just woke up with a bit of a headache…”

Right at that moment, what happened last night comes back to me, all at once. Seeing that thing next to Joshua’s room and the conversation we had made me forget, but… that’s right. I should probably bring it up to him. It’s a question of _how_ , though. “Hey, Josh, did you know that, uh… you sleepwalk?”

He stares at me completely nonplussed. “I’m sorry?”

Right, so I guess he didn’t know. “Yeah, last night I couldn’t sleep, and I kept tossing and turning, and you just got up from bed in the middle of the night and walked around the room a bit…”

How many details should I share for this?

“It was like you weren’t looking at anything. You just moved to a wall and… kept trying to run into it. Head first. I’m thinking that maybe that’s why you have a headache…”

He crosses his arms and leans back, still looking at me.

“And… you were also muttering this name. Andrea, I think it was.” His ears perk up at the mention of the name. “I called to you, seeing if you were alright, and you just stood over me, and eventually you stopped saying that name and began saying mine…”

By this point he’s just staring at me slack-jawed, brow furrowed. “I was doing… _what?_ ”

“So it’s never happened to you before?”

He stares at me blankly for a few seconds before replying. “No. Not that I can remember, at least.”

“Right… I don’t really know what causes people to sleepwalk, but I think it’s something they’ve either had their whole life or that starts after a certain point in their lives, or when something about their environment changes…? I haven’t read a lot into it. Has something changed for you, Josh?”

Another long pause. Very long, like he’s carefully thinking – or like he’s contemplating whether he actually wants to answer or not. “…no.” He looks down. “No. There’s nothing that’s changed recently.”

“Oh… I don’t know if it’s something you should talk to a doctor or a therapist about, because banging your head on a wall like that is pretty bad… you were just running into that wall, pretty violently. I feel you could harm yourself.”

The grip on his arms tightens, and I see his claws poke out and dig into his fur a little. “You said that I was saying a name, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you _sure_ you heard the right name?”

Wait, does he know this person? “Yeah? You were right next to me when you were saying it, so I got to hear it.”

Slowly, he nods. “That’s… bizarre. I only know one Andrea, and that is… my grandmother.”

…

As he says that, I realize I left out the part about him obviously getting hard as he kept muttering the name. That _is_ … bizarre. I don’t know if I should even tell him, considering the circumstances… but what the hell was going through his head at that moment for him to react like _that?_ Muttering the name of his grandmother in his sleep and getting an erection…

He’s for sure gay, right? That’s not even the weirdest circumstance here – _his grandmother?_

He looks at me. “That’s all you saw and heard, right? What happened after?”

“Er…” Yeah, I probably shouldn’t mention the erection thing to him. “After you trailed off saying my name, you went right back to your bed and fell back asleep. Nothing else happened. I got to sleep shortly after, myself. I didn’t sleep very well, because I’ve been having some weird dreams recently, I guess, but nothing else happened.”

He tilts his head, furrowing his brow. “Weird dreams?”

“Oh, uh… nothing important, don’t worry. Just seeing and hearing people in weird situations. People I know.”

He’s been in a lot of them, now that I think about it. What’s up with that?

He nods slowly, seeming to be a bit disturbed over the whole affair. “…right. Maybe it’s something I should keep an eye on, then.” He opens a drawer, pulls out a small medicine bottle – probably a painkiller. Interesting that he keeps some here, maybe he just gets headaches often. He looks at it for a few seconds, uncaps it, and takes out a couple of pills. He puts them in his mouth… and swallows them dry. “That’s that for that. Just gotta wait until the pain goes away, now that I have food in my stomach.” He shrugs and walks behind me, patting my shoulder before heading for the stairs.

Oh, wait, I needed to do something else. “Josh!”

He stops and turns around. “Mm?”

“Hey, last night Michael shot me a message, telling me to go to the food court today at lunchtime. He said he’s going to treat me to lunch, that everyone else is going to be there, and that he wanted me to ask you to come. It’s interesting that he did something like this.” I tap my chin. “I’m not really sure why he didn’t ask you directly, though.”

“No surprises there.” Joshua looks tired. Somehow, for a moment, I get the impression that he knows more about this than he’s letting on right now.

I’m not sure how to address that. “Er, well, are you coming? Maybe it’d be nice to have someone treat you out for lunch for a change, haha.”

He mutters something that I don’t catch. Something about parents. He clears his throat. “Don’t think I will, sorry.” He sighs. “I’ve got work to do today. Maybe if I’d been told about this plan yesterday I’d have been able to make time for it, but since it’s so sudden I don’t think I can. I have clients waiting on some stuff.”

Hm. I guess I couldn’t have helped that then, since Michael sent me the message last night. I guess being currently unemployed means I just have more free time and a freer schedule. “Oh, sorry.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” He walks over, giving me a small smile and ruffling my hair. “Have fun. And eat a lot, you hear?”

I’m trying not to think too hard about it, but he’s still just in his underwear and looking incredible. Seeing all this muscle, and that tight bulge, lit by the sunlight instead of a lightbulb late at night… Joshua is really quite a catch. Why do I think these things at the worst possible times?

He arches an eyebrow. “What, do you want a hug again?” He goes forward and squeezes me tight, my snout burying into his chest fuzz. “I told you – if you want to be hugged or held you just need to tell me. You North Americans are _really_ weird about physical touch.”

I can feel blood rushing to my face, now that it’s buried in his chest. It’s soft and warm, and he still smells… great. Some traces of the cologne he put on yesterday, some of the smoke from the cigarette, and the feel of the cross necklace he wears against the fur on my forehead… I could stay like this forever. I lift my hands and put them around Joshua’s back – a broad, muscular back. I can feel all the muscles under his fur, now that he’s like this.

“See? That isn’t so bad, is it?” I hadn’t realized it until now, but the way you can feel the vibration of his voice when he’s holding you is… very nice too. He has such a deep voice.

“No, it wasn’t that… I mean, yes, thanks for the hug, it’s great, but…”

“But?”

I can feel him squeeze me tighter.

“I was—I was just… thinking of how you’re in your underwear right now…”

A pause. He scoffs and chuckles, letting go. “Sorry about my indecency. It’s just what I do when I’m around the house normally. Though maybe I should be more careful with that, since I have someone living with me now.” He steps back, crossing his arms, a gentle smile on his lips. “Or, wait, you said you liked the sight? Maybe I should strut around the house in my underwear more?”

“Oh my God, Joshua.”

He laughs, turning around once more. “Don’t worry, I’ll get dressed when I get out of the shower. You can pick your jaw up from the floor then.” My face burns. “Oh, before that, though… wait here.”

He runs up the stairs. I can hear him rummaging around his room a bit. He comes back down holding something small, before he puts it in my hands. It’s a small keyring with two keys on it. “What is this?”

“A spare set of keys for my house. Each key opens one of the two locks on the door. I had this made before you came to town because I planned to give it to you.”

“…even if I didn’t choose to stay with you?”

He looks at me for a few seconds. “Yes? Brett, Tyler and Michael all have keys as well. Just in case of emergencies, or if they want to hang out. They just have to shoot me a message first, and then they can just come here and get in, unless I’m working. Of course, you don’t have to send me any messages, since you’re living here now.” He pats my shoulder. “Giving you this just in case now, since you’re leaving later. Maybe I’ll just be too busy working and it’ll take me a bit to open the door, and I don’t want you to be left out waiting in the cold, you know?”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.”

“Well, I think that’s all. Good luck with your thing.”

And he runs back up the stairs. I can hear a door opening and closing, and then the shower starts to run.

I take a shower of my own in the downstairs bathroom and get ready to leave the house. I go upstairs and wait in Joshua’s room a bit – I feel I should probably properly say goodbye before leaving for this plan. It’s almost lunchtime.

He doesn’t leave the bathroom. But I can still hear him washing himself. I really took a shower and got dressed and he’s still in there, even if he started before me? He takes… really long showers. Long and hot, if the steam coming out of the bottom of the door is any indication…

Odd.

I shake my head, grab my things and head out. I guess I can just talk to him more later.


	8. Wednesday's Thorns (Part 2)

Getting to the food court goes by without a hitch. It’s close enough walking that I don’t need Joshua to drive me there, which I’m glad for. Brett, Michael and Tyler already grabbed a table and I see them waving at me – Tyler with both hands to catch my attention, Brett with a simple wave to greet me, and Michael with no hands, simply nodding at me. Michael arches an eyebrow as I approach, and I feel I can guess what he’s thinking – why Joshua isn’t with me.

“Hey, James!” Tyler is the first one to speak up.

“Hey, dude!” Brett follows, pointing to the empty seat at the table.

“’Sup.” Michael gives me a smirk, leaning back.

I nod at them and sit down. Here and now, I realize how convenient it is to have a car like Joshua has – I’d be a lot better rested if I’d come here by car. “Hey, everyone.”

“I’m glad you could make it!” Tyler just beams at me, an ear-to-ear grin.

“Of course. So, like, I assume Michael invited all of you as well?”

Michael’s ears twitch a bit, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“Oh, yeah, a message last night.” Tyler pulls out his phone. “A bit late. I was about to go to bed, but the message reached me, so I just said yes.”

“Same here!” Brett struggles a bit to pull his phone out. “I wasn’t close to going to bed by that time, because I was watching a show, but it was a nice surprise!”

“And I didn’t get shit.” Michael snorts. “Obviously, ‘cause I’m the one that sent out the messages and shit.”

“How about you?” Tyler looks at me.

“Also a message last night. Makes sense, considering how you were all invited, I guess.” I smile. Tyler smiles back.

Brett looks around. With his arms crossed and leaning back, Michael lazily turns his eyes to him, then to me, arching an eyebrow. “Speaking of invites…?”

“Oh.” I clear my throat. “I asked Joshua if he wanted to come but he said he was busy with some work stuff. Said if he’d gotten an invite a couple of days ago, he’d have come, but his day was scheduled already.”

For some reason, it’s like the mention of Joshua makes Tyler and Brett tense up a bit, and they both look at me. It’s almost imperceptible, but the change is there. Michael’s brow furrows ever so slightly. “Tch. Figures.” He rolls his eyes and sighs. “But it’s whatever. Just wanted him to come to this.” He grabs the side of his head and closes his eyes.

Silence falls over us, and for a moment I wonder if the reason Tyler and Brett look so tense is what happened yesterday – and how I accidentally became privy to the stuff Joshua helps them with. It’d make sense. If someone found out a secret of mine I’d feel uncomfortable as well, and it was very sudden for them.

**And you have secrets aplenty, don’t you?**

I shake my head and look around. “Well, not to act like I’m hungry or anything, but can we order stuff now?”

Tyler perks up and lifts up a restaurant beeper that he had hidden in his arms. I… guess also under the warmth of his chest. “Oh, we already ordered! Brett and I, that is.” I look at the beeper and it’s that Japanese restaurant.

“Yeah!” Brett leans forward. “I’m getting a plate of… of…”

“ _Ton…_ ”

“ _Tonkatsu?_ The thing I said I liked?” Brett’s pronunciation is better this time around, even if he doesn’t look terribly sure of what he’s saying or how he’s saying it.

“ _Tonkatsu!_ You got it!” Now Tyler beams at him.

Brett sighs in relief, chuckling. That gets a laugh out of me. “Hey, are you two practicing Japanese together or something?”

Tyler’s eyes dart to me, but it’s Brett that replies. “A few words! Just stuff that comes up often, like the names of foods and the like. Some common words and stuff… Tyler’s a great teacher!”

Smiling bashfully, Tyler turns away, scratching the back of his head. “Aw, shucks…”

I chuckle. “But why? Any particular reason?”

“Nnnot really? Well… just so I don’t end up embarrassing him when we come here, really.” Brett shrugs and Tyler giggles. “That, and he’s showing me a few shows, so I’m trying to recognize a few words.”

“Oh, that’s nice!” I pause. “By _shows_ you mean…”

“The cartoons he watches, yes!”

“ _Anime._ ” It’s soft, but Tyler mutters the word under his breath. “But… yeah, they’re just cartoons in the end, I guess.”

“Hehe, maybe I’ll have to ask him for lessons as well!” I smile. For a moment I get the feeling that there’s some sort of romantic feel between them, but that’s not really possible. Brett is straight and Tyler has a girlfriend, even if he gives me a funky vibe sometimes. I don’t know if I just have a functioning gaydar now.

Or maybe I’m just thinking about myself and Joshua and that cashier that wondered if we were a couple, maybe because we act like one. I should stop thinking about that.

“Yo.” Michael snaps his fingers, chuckling. “Earth to ya weebs.”

I look at him. “Oh, and did you order as well, Michael?”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Nope. Not ordering anything. I’ve got lunch back home. Just wanted to hang out as well.” He leans forward, groaning. “Anyways, you know what you wanna order yet?”

I look around for a bit… and my eyes meet this sandwich chain restaurant. “I think I want a sandwich today.”

Michael’s eyes lazily turn to the restaurant, he pulls out his wallet, and hands me a cash note. “Here. Said I’m treating you to lunch.”

“Oh, right, thanks!” I grab it from his hands and put it in his pocket. I don’t know how comfortable I am accepting money from him for this purpose, but if I let Joshua do it—

“Joshua treat you to lunch a lot?”

Oh, he read my mind, I guess. “Not _a lot_ but yeah, yesterday we came here to have lunch and he paid for it. But… I guess since I’m having meals in his house normally, every meal I have is him treating me to food, huh?”

Michael snorts. “I guess.” Somehow, I feel Brett and Tyler are pretty tense.

“Did you treat them to food as well?”

Their sight picks up and they look at me for a few seconds. Michael replies. “No. They insisted they wanted to pay for their shit.” They nod. “For the most part. Tyler here paid for Brett’s meal, actually.” A smirk spreads across his lips, and I swear I see Tyler blush a bit. There’s definitely something going on here.

“Well, alright! I’ll be right back, then—”

“Actually—” Brett rushes to get up. “You mind if I come with you? I haven’t been to that place yet and I wanted to take a closer look at the menu.”

“Oh, sure.” But when I look back and see Tyler and Michael’s reactions, I feel that may have been a lie – Tyler looking uncomfortable and Michael looking slightly puzzled. Still, I don’t feel I should point it out. I get the sensation that Brett just wants to talk to me for a bit, for one reason or another.

I leave the group and go over to the restaurant. I order my food – a big tuna sandwich and a tall cup of ice tea, enough to be a lunch meal – and pay for it, pocketing the change. Brett is fidgeting next to me, but I don’t think he’s paying a lot of attention to the menu. As I receive my pager and thank the cashier, Brett taps my shoulder. “Hey, dude…”

“Yeah?”

He looks… apologetic, almost. Thoroughly ashamed. “Hehe, about yesterday…”

I see why now. “What about yesterday?” Of course, I ask, but I know what he wants to talk about, for the most part.

“Yeah…” He crosses his arms, hugging himself. “What did Joshua tell you about all that? ‘Cause I bet you had a lot of questions after seeing that…”

Best to be honest about it. “Not much. Just that he was giving you money to pay rent, and the stuff about a treatment, and that’s it. He didn’t go into any details.”

Brett nods slowly, and he seems to relax a little. “So he didn’t explain… anything else? What the treatment was for? Anything?”

“No. He didn’t say anything. He just told me that you wanted to keep it a secret from the others, so he couldn’t give me any more details.” I smile gently at him. “Don’t worry, I don’t know a thing.” Which, admittedly, is a weird thing to say to reassure someone, but… I guess the situation merits it.

Brett lets out a small sigh and relaxes. “Oh, I’m glad… er, not to say that I don’t want you knowing stuff because you’re you or anything, but just—”

“It’s alright, Brett. Everyone’s got their secrets, for various reasons. Not everyone has to know everything about everyone else, and that’s alright.”

**Everyone’s got their secrets…**

He chuckles. “Haha, wow, yeah. That’s a pretty reassuring thing to hear. Have you considered that Joshua’s rubbing off on you a bit? Hehe.”

I don’t know why the comment makes me feel a bit fuzzy on the inside… but at the same time it gets me thinking about some stuff. Joshua helps everyone, doesn’t he? But Michael’s problem with him is…

I shake my head. No use thinking about it right now – and I still don’t know why Michael just wanted us to hang out. I don’t know why he didn’t just invite Joshua directly, actually, but maybe I can get an answer to that in a bit.

Still in my hand, the buzzer vibrates. I guess that they just had the ingredients for my food ready and making the sandwich was easy. I turn to the cashier again and hand her the thing, as a cook comes out of the kitchen holding a plastic tray – on it is a plate with a long sandwich cut in half, and a disposable cup full of tea with ice cubes in it. It looks and smells delicious, and I realize how hungry I am. “Oh, thank you!” I nod at both employees, grab a few napkins, and grab my tray.

Walking back to the table with Brett by my side, I notice Michael is looking in a different direction. I look in the same direction and spot Tyler, precariously balancing two trays in both hands, uneasily walking towards the table—

“Oh shit.” Brett takes off, running to him to help him carry the trays. He chuckles, and Tyler smiles, accepting the help.

Seems like while I was getting a sandwich, Brett and Tyler got more complex things. That’s a nice plate of ramen in front of Tyler, and the tonkatsu bowl in front of Brett doesn’t lag too far behind in presentation. That must have cost a bit more than my thing—

Which reminds me. I dig around my pocket and fish out the change, stretching it out towards Michael. “Hey, here’s what—”

He just shakes his head and waves his palm at me. “Keep it. Ain’t much anyways.”

“Oh, sure, thanks.” Awfully generous of him…

I grab my sandwich with a napkin, feeling how crisp and perfectly toasted the bread is. My mouth is watering just thinking of eating it. I open wide, taking a bite… and it’s just about as delicious as it looks. A small groan escapes me. I chew a bit, downing the bite with a sip of tea, and just keep eating. We make some small talk while eating, and I notice Tyler is eating his soup with chopsticks while Brett is using a fork. Makes sense, as well. We make some nice small talk about many things – catching up a bit after the time we spent apart, how things have been going for us. How the town’s treated everyone. The stuff we could have discussed last Monday if it wasn’t because of what happened.

Joshua isn’t here. I wonder if that’s why Michael is so amicable, but at the same time it’s not like he’s saying much. He just looks around, over us eating, and sometimes arches his eyebrow and snorts whenever someone makes a funny comment. It reminds me… of Joshua watching me eat. Of the stuff I wanted to tell everyone during that party before it all went to shit. Before…

“Something wrong?” He looks at me, and I notice I’ve stopped eating and I’m just staring at him.

“Oh, no, sorry, I was just thinking about something.” I get back to eating, dabbing some sauce away from the corners of my lips. It’s delicious.

For a moment, I swear I see Michael’s sight unfocus. I wonder what’s going through his head right now.

I finish eating and drink my tea, sucking on an ice cube in my mouth. Tyler finishes after me, slurping up the broth in his bowl with gusto and setting it down, letting out a contented sigh. Brett finishes shortly after, letting down the fork inside his bowl and leaning back, full. Feels like they ate more than I did, even if Tyler is processing the amount of food a lot better, it seems…

I take my phone out. No notifications. Joshua is online.

With his arms crossed, Michael leans forward and rests his elbows on the table. “So, now that you’re all done stuffing your mouths, got something to say.”

Everyone turns to him. He looks among us for a bit, his green eyes drifting between Brett, then me, then Tyler, and back. He takes a deep breath, breathes into his fists and scoffs. “So, I did a bit of thinking about what happened last Monday.”

Tyler looks down, suddenly feeling uneasy, and Brett starts to fidget. Is he going to start up again?

“I was really left with my thoughts, as I walked back home, and I realized shit wasn’t okay, yeah? It was a stupid fight to have, and I shouldn’t have done that while we were celebrating James being back in town for a while. Wanted to, y’know, put that out there.” He looks at me specifically. “More than anything this apology is for you, since you’re the one that just came back to town and had to see all that shit. Feel embarrassed even thinking about all that crap and I’m really beating myself up over it, so I can just apologize for it. You can accept the apology or not, but I just wanted to put that out there, ‘cause it wasn’t fair on you.”

He looks serious. Deathly serious. His tone is pretty flat and, barring his usual cursing, it’s almost polite and formal. It looks and feels like something he’s seriously put some thought into, and it feels… honest. He’s really thought about this a fair bit, and even though I don’t know what’s going on inside his mind, I feel it probably did weigh pretty heavily on him, like he said.

“Yeah, I accept it.” I nod and smile, and it feels like some of the tension dissipates, if the small sigh leaving Tyler is any indication. “A pretty good apology, too! You can only pick your chin up and move forward after something like this, you know?”

“Mm.” He nods, leaning back and chuckling. “Shit, man, why’s this crap so difficult?”

Acknowledging that you’re wrong and moving forward? That’s a good question. “I think it’s just part of our nature as sentient beings. I wouldn’t know – I’m an art major, not a psychology major. It’s easier for some people than others.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean, bro. It’s real difficult for me to apologize and shit.” He crosses his arms and scoffs. “Gotta do it real fuckin’ often, too.”

I lightly chuckle, scratching the back of my head. “Well, that’s just something that you gotta work on, I guess. All part of like… developing as a human. It happens every day.”

He nods at me.

But something about this bothers me.

“Shouldn’t you be apologizing to Joshua too?”

He tilts his head at me, and the tension returns. “Huh?”

“I… I mean, he’s the one that organized the small party in the first place, no? Drove us there, brought food – he wanted to cook but didn’t have enough time to do it, he told me – and stuff… even though it was a party for me, I think he deserves an apology too, no? Since you apologized to me, and also to Brett and Tyler…”

His gaze narrows slightly and he pauses for a few seconds. “Maybe he does.”

Michael’s behavior is a bit confusing. “Well, why didn’t you invite him here, then? Directly, instead of through me?”

“Why don’t you fucking ask him that question yourself?”

His tone is so casual and so devoid of anger that it’s just… confusing to me. Like a statement of fact about something I’m not privy to. “Huh?”

He arches an eyebrow. “You mean he didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what? Is this about why you invited all of us directly with messages but didn’t do the same for him?” Come to think of it, he also didn’t send any messages in our group chat. That’d have been a lot easier, wouldn’t it? Is he just trying to avoid talking to Joshua, while also knowing he deserves an apology as well?

Michael rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone, groaning. He unlocks it, taps a few things on the screen, and then holds it out in front of my face. It’s the messaging app we use, and a conversation with Joshua.

‘you owe him an apology.’  
‘a really damn good one, michael.’

Those were the last messages Joshua sent Michael, it seems. The area where you type new messages in seems to be greyed out as well, which means—

“Cunt blocked me after this. You see why I didn’t ask him directly now?” A fully rhetorical, aggressive question.

“I… see very well, Michael.” I lean back in my chair. I didn’t know Joshua had done this, which ought to explain why Michael didn’t ask him directly. I thought it was just because he didn’t want to talk to the guy… Checking the timestamps, they match up to last Monday – after we got home. Should have been after Joshua downed all that vodka and pulled out his phone. Is this what he typed out before he went to sleep?

Michael locks his phone and puts it in his pocket again, clicking his teeth. “Good. Wondrous thing, isn’t it?”

Tyler is still looking at Michael, jaw slightly open. “I… didn’t know he’d done that.”

Brett shakes his head. “Neither did I.”

“Well, now you fucking do as well!” Michael scoffs and leans back on his chair. “Fucking mess, this whole thing. You.” He points at me. “Can you tell him to unblock me now? This shit’s ridiculous.”

I slowly nod. “Yeah, I’ll… see if I can ask him to do that.”

Tyler holds his arm with his hand, squeezing. “So… is that the only reason you invited us here too, Michael?”

Michael turns to Tyler and pauses for a few seconds. “Maybe.” He groans and rubs his temples. “I don’t know, man. He told me to apologize and I did, and I thought that you two also deserved an apology. Do I have to get interrogated over shit now or what?”

“You two?” The words escape my mouth before I really get to think about them much. “Didn’t you just say that Joshua also—”

“I _know_ I fucking said that he maybe deserved an apology as well! Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head and grabs his arms, and I see his muscles tensing up. “Fucking hell, and now you’re doing it too. All that time spent with him’s rotting your brain, I swear. He’s rubbing off so much on you, pisses me off.”

Hold on, what? That comment really rubs me the wrong way. I close my eyes, and a dry chuckle leaves me… and I take a deep breath, calming down. Brett and Tyler don’t need this. “Well… is that so much of a bad thing? It’s not like it’s a bad thing, is it? He’s our friend, and we spend so much time with him that him rubbing off on us is bound to happen one way or another, yeah?” I try to calm my tone, but something about Michael’s annoyed gaze is annoying me in turn. “Like… like you, Michael. That thing you just did, paying for my food, is something he does a lot for us, isn’t it? And—and that stuff about just looking at us while we eat! He looks at us when we eat a lot, probably because he wants us to eat well, and wants to make sure that we’re really getting our fill – especially when he’s the one that did the cooking! See, it isn’t so wrong to have your friends rub off on you a bit…”

It’s like I can feel Brett and Tyler shrinking in their seats, and I feel I might have done something wrong, without knowing it. But that concept annoys me as well – Joshua is supposed to be Michael’s friend, and a statement like that shouldn’t be annoying him. His brow slowly furrows more, and I can see his right eyebrow twitch. “…what the _fuck_ was that?”

Is he going to start up again? Under the table, I can feel my hands lightly tremble.

“‘Looks at us when we eat’, really? You fucking sure about that?” He leans forward, looking directly at me, like he’s trying to burn a hole in my skull. “ ** _Us_** is a fucking crowd. You thinking that he looks at **_us_** when we eat is fucking rich. You really don’t notice even for a moment that it’s just you?”

It’s what now?

“It’s like that with everything. All those little things you say about him being nice – you’re the main recipient of all that crap. You really think it’s a matter of _us_ like he doesn’t treat you differently, and in a more special way? Grow the fuck up, James. You’re too fucking old to not notice this shit.”

This is quite a bomb to just drop on me. Very heavy accusations of favoritism to lever against Joshua, too.

…and I know they aren’t true. They don’t feel like they are true. If Brett and Tyler are not saying anything, that has to mean that they aren’t true either.

I feel my hands ball up into fists and my heart starts beating in my throat. I close my eyes to try and relax a bit… but it’s no use. My eyelids are trembling as well. I lean forward on the table, looking directly to Michael, and speak before the thoughts are really fully formed in my head. “…and what the _fuck_ is your deal, Michael?”

The anger in his face dissipates and transforms into confusion. Brett and Tyler turn to me as well. I know why. I never get this angry, and I never curse, but this situation is just too much for me.

“Yeah. You heard me. What _is_ your deal with this whole situation? Why is me saying that a _friend_ rubbing off on you isn’t that bad of a thing such an offensive thing to say to you?” I keep my voice low, deliberately.

His brow furrows again. “Some fucking bullshit you’re on. You’re disconnected from reality, completely, dipshit.”

“Oh, you wanna get in those terms? Talking about _reality?_ ” I scoff, turning to Tyler. “Ty.”

He almost jumps out of his chair and turns to me. “Y-yes?”

“Joshua helps you a lot with your issues, doesn’t he? Whenever you need to calm down to be able to work well?”

He pauses for a few seconds and looks down. “…yes.”

“Good. And you, Brett?”

His hands are trembling hard, but I feel I still need to question him.

“You know exactly how much and why Joshua is helping you so much as well, don’t you? I don’t know all the details, but I saw enough to know he’s helping you plenty.”

“Yeah—yeah, he helps me out a lot with things…”

“Good.” I turn to Michael again – and it feels like the way he’s looking at me means he didn’t know any part about Joshua helping Brett and Tyler with things, even if there’s no details involved. “You see? Do you want to talk about _reality_ when discussing our _friend_ when you just act like none of that is happening? Why are you so… why do you hate him so much? What drives you to be like this towards him? Because from what he told me – and I don’t have any other sources, because _none of you_ have talked to me about what happened last Monday at all either, so I have to believe him – what happened during the party happens all the time with you all—specifically with you, Michael. What is it that makes you do all that?”

He keeps staring at me, his hands balling up into fists, grabbing fistfuls of red fur on his girthy arms.

“Actually, that…” I take a deep breath and look at the other two. “Ty, Brett… if he helps you both so much, why don’t you ever say anything when Michael does all that? Because Josh also told me that every time this happens, you two say _nothing._ ” I feel myself winding down, like the anger is leaving me. “I just want answers, you know? Because this isn’t how we used to be, and he really feels unappreciated because of all he does for you two, while you do nothing to defend him when that sort of stuff happens. When those… accusations fly? I don’t get it. I don’t understand any of it.”

Tyler sighs and leans back, looking down. He twiddles his thumbs a bit and opens his mouth a few times, like he wants to say something. He looks… guilty. Brett looks guilty as well. Maybe this is it. Maybe we can discuss things and we can improve how stuff is going in our little group.

Or maybe not.

I didn’t realize it while I focused on the other two, but Michael is… trembling. Absolutely full of rage in this moment. “…so is this it? I go out of my way to invite all of you to apologize for my shit, and I even pay for your fucking meal, and the thanks I get is getting grilled more over stuff?”

My God. “As much as pointing out the obvious is _grilling_ , yes, Michael.” I’m really not having any of this.

“You’re… you fucking bastard. You fucking ingrate.”

All this after he just paid for a meal? “That’s rich, coming from the guy that can’t appreciate how much his friend does for h—”

“Zip it, cunt.” I blink. “You know what I just realized, as you drooled all over the fucking table just now? Joshua fucking Roderick didn’t rub off on you. No, he didn’t _just_ rub off on you. You’re fully his lap dog now.”

I…

“Yeah, that’s what you are. He’s got you wrapped all the way around his fucking finger, and you just do whatever the hell he tells you to do. You crushing that fucking hard on him, bitch? Losing everything that made you your own individual?” Tyler just looks away. Brett looks at him. Michael’s voice keeps rising. “You think I give so much as a singular shit how much he helps everyone? He still turned his back on us. You don’t realize it because you were here a year and then fucked off to the big city to get a useless degree and probably get bred by random guys, if you returned here turned into this much of a faggot for the lion. You think about him every time a new guy entered you? Of course, since he treats you better than all of us you wouldn’t realize it. You’ve only got eyes for him now. And I bet he treats you nicely, in his house. Probably lets you sleep in his bed and touch his fucking tits every night. Does he also put you on a damn leash, so you get used to only being an extension of him? Huh? Tell me.”

I just look at him. It’s actually almost painful how wrong he is about this all – like he didn’t even bother trying to understand any part of this situation before flying into a rage. And I can’t help wondering if this is just how it is every time – how it was all the time I wasn’t here.

I can’t even feel angry.

But I do know I’ve had enough.

“Okay.” I put my hands on the table and get up. “I don’t know _why_ it is that Joshua does it, but I’m not him, and I’m not an extension of him or whatever you’re trying to say I am – so I’m not just going to sit there, grin and bear it while you heap abuse upon me. I’m not going to just take it, Michael.” There’s this sense of… doneness in my voice. “And you can’t just treat the people around you like this – people that you claim are friends. You’re so wrong about everything it actually hurts, and I’m not going to sit here and allow you the privilege of spouting all this nonsense into someone that’s going to listen to it. You got _this_ because you apologized but then refused to address anything else about your behavior. Think about that a bit.” I grab the tray and turn away from the group—before turning back, as I realize I forgot something. “Oh, and one last thing. There _was_ something you got right, that I was going to tell all of you about, before you decided to have this little scene of yours. I _did_ , in fact, get fucked by guys when I was in school, and I _did_ find out that I am gay. So, enjoy the little reveal, and toodles.”

The shock in all their faces is plain. I hate that I had to come out to them like this, but I’m not going to stick around and let all of this happen if I can simply walk away. Tyler seems the most shocked, while the reveal seems to have left Michael at a complete loss for words – but I wonder how much of it is the fact that I’m gay, and how much of it is the way that I stood up to him. From the looks of it, nobody does that here. Brett and Tyler don’t tell him anything to defend Joshua, and Joshua doesn’t defend himself either at all. It makes me… angry and sad. And I wonder how long it’s been like this.

“No, wait—”

Even though Michael calls out to me, I don’t stop. I’m really not sitting by idly. I take the tray back to the restaurant and nod at the cashier. She gives me a bit of a weird, quizzical look. Could they hear our discussion from here?

I keep walking out and reach the entrance of the food court. What a mess. I look back at the table, and where I expect to see someone positively fuming and two other people cowering in fear… I instead see Michael leaning forward, with his face in his hands, while Brett and Tyler are looking down as well, with sadness. I feel like… maybe there’s actual regret there. Michael is slumped over _hard_ over the table. He clenches his hands into fists… and lets go. From how his head moves, I can tell he’s saying something. Brett, who is sitting next to him, reaches over to pat him in the back, maybe, but then stops, withdrawing his hand. Tyler gets up and leaves. Michael looks up at him and I see there’s indeed regret in his face.

He spots me and gets up, heading towards me. “Hey!” He reaches out his hand, and I can tell he wants to talk…

…but I just shake my head and walk outside the supermarket faster. I’m just heading back to Joshua’s house. This was a mess, and I don’t really want to keep talking to him. That stuff he said was… too much. Specially aimed at someone that’s supposed to be his friend, and about someone else that is _also_ supposed to be his friend.

Once I’m out, a message arrives at my phone. Is he trying to reach me through here as well? I take it out with frustration… only to see it’s a message from Tyler. And a few more come after it.

‘Hey james’  
‘Just wanted to say that all the stuff you said was right’  
‘It is pretty unnecessary, what michael does to joshua and all the group’  
‘But i just couldn’t bring myself to say anything about it and things were getting pretty heated’  
‘I’m sorry’  
‘But you were right about everything’  
‘Can you tell joshua i’m sorry too? I didn’t know all that stuff about him feeling underappreciated :(’

I just… sigh. I quickly type out a response and keep walking.

‘Ty I’m saying this with all the love I have in my heart for all of you’  
‘But you need to apologize to him directly about this stuff’  
‘I know this sort of stuff is hard for you but it’s not fair for him if you just make me apologize on your behalf’  
‘And the same goes for Brett and Michael’  
‘I hope at least Michael takes something to heart of all the stuff I said’  
‘How is he btw?’

A few seconds.

‘I don’t know’  
‘I just went to the bathroom to type these messages out in peace’  
‘I just got a message from brett telling me he’s leaving as well’

Disaster.

‘Go hang out with him’  
‘Maybe you should talk to Michael as well but I don’t know if you want to do that right now’  
‘I’m just heading back to Josh’s’  
‘I’m pretty exhausted right now’

A short pause.

‘So am i’  
‘Ugh’

I feel bad for Tyler… but there’s also nothing I can do there.

‘Have a good rest of your day Ty’

He replies.

‘Thank you james’  
‘You too’

I pocket my phone and keep walking.


	9. Wednesday's Thorns (Part 3)

I’m almost relieved to see Joshua’s house in the distance, after the absolute fiasco that the lunch date with the others was. I still hope that Brett and Tyler are feeling alright and left as I approach the door. Hell, I’m also hoping Michael is seriously thinking about what I told him and overcomes… whatever it is that takes over him whenever he thinks about Joshua. It for sure doesn’t seem healthy.

I approach the door… and turn around, as I feel I’m being watched. There’s nobody around, though. Just some feral deer in the forest next to the house, looking at me. It makes me wonder if feral species can recognize their sentient counterparts… but, still, it feels like they’re looking through me instead of at me, for some reason. I don’t know how I can even come to such a conclusion – their eyes are so beady and dark that I can’t make out many details in the first place, very unlike my own eyes. The skulls are different as well…

I shake my head and turn back to the door. My finger hovers over the doorbell for a few moments until I remember I have keys. Strange to think that I have keys to this house now. Makes it feel like it’s really my home as well, on some level. I unlock the door and walk in – surely Joshua heard me with his super lion ears and is coming to greet me any moment now. Or he just doesn’t care that much.

Nobody comes. I lock the door behind me – I know he likes to lock all the doors in his house, for some reason – and drop the keys on the bar nearby. There’s nobody around, and there’s no noise in the house, but the living room light is on, like he was expecting me to come around this time and left things on to welcome me. Still, the curtains are open. Odd.

Looking around, I’m really only drawn to a new bottle on the bar. A tall glass bottle, obviously alcohol. I grab it. Vodka. I guess he bought another bottle, since he… downed the last one last Monday. I turn it around a bit. Forty percent alcohol concentration per volume, and this price tag… it’s not the most expensive thing, but it’s also no cheap. I wonder if he drinks this sort of stuff regularly. Actually, he must, because it’d explain why he could down half of a bottle like this like water the other day. I notice the seal is broken and it isn’t at full capacity – maybe he already drank some.

I open it, place the cap on the bar, and sniff it—

God, that’s foul. That’s strong, alright. It burns my nostrils just smelling it. How does he even tolerate this stuff enough to drink it straight from the bottle?

…

I wonder if his lips touched the rim of the mouth of the bottle, since he obviously already drank a bit.

…

Slowly, I bring the bottle to my lips—

I leave it on the bar. No, what the hell am I doing? That’s just creepy. Besides, I should ask Joshua before drinking his booze. I cap it and push the bottle away from me gently, taking deep breaths. I shouldn’t be this bothered.

Looking around, trying to distract myself, like there’s some invisible viewer whose attention I’m trying to get off my back, I notice that there’s a door with light coming through it in the distance, slightly ajar. This door has been locked every time I’ve been down here. Maybe Joshua is down there. I push the door inwards and it effortlessly opens, with a light creak at the end of the movement. There’s stairs leading down. This has to be the basement of this house. Every house here has a basement, I think – at least the old house my parents and I lived in before they moved out had a basement, and I imagine these rich houses should all have that as well. It’s a bit chilly inside, but otherwise completely unremarkable.

I go down the stairs, being met by bare brick walls, some supporting pillars holding the rest of the house up, and two doors. One of the doors is closed and has a complicated-looking lock, and the other is open, pouring light into this area of the basement. This has to be the light that I saw up there. First, I approach the closed door, try to turn the doorknob… and it doesn’t even budge, like the lock is fused into the wall. Odd. Still, maybe that means Joshua isn’t here – and is instead in the room with the lit lights.

I enter and look around, met by the sight of a home gym. Right, Joshua has one of these. He never liked the small gym the town has, and he can afford something like this, so it’s probably more comfortable for him. Small windows on the upper corners of the room lead to the ground level outside, the walls are actually painted – plain white, but they’re painted – and there’s some mats on the floor, made of some rubbery material, in the rough shape of jigsaw puzzle pieces, locked into each other and covering the whole floor in here. Lots of tracks on them, from the soles of shoes. Many weights and machines I cannot name in the room as well – racks with weights, but also bigger and longer weights on other parts of the floor. A treadmill, some rolled up jump rope, a few weight machines. Some horizontal bars, for some reason? I really don’t know about this stuff.

And, in the middle of the room, Joshua. Standing, with his arms to his sides, looking away from me. There’s a huge, wall-length mirror on the opposite end of the room, in the direction he’s staring, so I get to see his face… and he’s staring at absolutely nothing. His face is completely blank, and he just keeps looking into the distance. What’s up with that?

“Josh?”

His ears twitch and he blinks a few times, before he turns to look at my reflection. “Oh, you’re back.” He stretches and shakes his head, turning to walk towards me.

“Sorry, did I interrupt you?”

“Not really, no.”

“Were you working out?”

“Er… no.”

Huh? “What were you doing here, then?”

Already standing in front of me, he stares down at me for a few seconds before speaking. “I’m not sure. I came here to do something, but I think I forgot what it was when I walked into the room… I think I told you I’m forgetting things a lot lately. It probably wasn’t anything important, anyways.”

“Huh.” I nod. “How long have you been down here, then? I just got home, came down here, and saw you there.”

He crosses his arms, frowning lightly, in thought. “It can’t have been long. Probably just a few minutes, as I tried to remember what I wanted to do…?”

I look over at where he’s standing, and the rubber mat is clearly sunken, in the shape of the soles of his boots. He’s been standing there for a _good_ while. I have to wonder what’s up with that.

He looks back at where I’m staring, pushing his glasses up. I wonder if he notices what I’m looking at – surely he does. He’s pretty perceptive. He shakes his head and turns back to me. “Well, I’m going up. I’m almost done with work for today, and then I can entertain you, alright?” He pats my shoulder, and in that moment I think of how heavy his hands are.

Heavy, huh?

“Hey, actually…”

As I speak, he stops dead in his tracks and turns back to me, arching an eyebrow. “Mm?”

Suddenly, I think of all the moments this week where it’s been glaringly obvious I’m the only guy in the group that does no physical activity of any kind. I don’t mind being a bit flabby, and I don’t actually need to be fit for my line of work, but it’d still be nice to stay healthy, no? And… who knows, it might help me with moving canvases and easels and sculptures around or something. “I was wondering if you could teach me how to work out.”

He turns to me fully, crossing his arms, a lightly surprised expression on his face.

“It’s just – this whole week, spending time with you all, it’s become really obvious to me how… _flabby_ I am? Like—even Tyler, who’s the biggest guy, has a lot of muscle on him, and I really have nothing going on in that regard.”

“A lot of muscle and impressive progress. I would know because I’ve been tracking it, because I was the one that taught him weightlifting in the first place.” He lightly shakes his head and rubs his face with a hand. “At any rate – are you saying you want me to do that with you as well?”

“Yeah, actually. I was specifically thinking of how Tyler told me you were teaching him, and I wondered if you could do that for me, too. If it isn’t too much trouble, that is.”

“Sure.” He steps to me. “Hand me your phone.”

…odd request. He must realize the confusion in my features, because he smirks. Still, I pull it out and hand it to him. “Er, why?”

He grabs it and walks off. “It’s what you hooked to my car’s radio last Saturday, to play your music, so I’m assuming all of your playlist is in here somewhere. There’s a stereo here with an aux cord for playing music, because there’s few things quite as dull as working out in silence.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” A pause. “Oh, wait, it’s l—”

But he’s already thumbing through the screen, checking out menus and stuff. “No, it isn’t.” He chuckles. “Remember when I guessed your password all those years ago? I can’t believe you still haven’t changed it. Major cybersecurity vulnerability there, you know?”

I blush a little.

“Don’t worry. I’m not interested in what you have in this phone anyways. Feel free to change it after we’re done if you want – I’m just interested in your music player.” He reaches the corner of the room, and, indeed, I spot a small stereo system there. Looking around, I realize there’s speakers all around us. He drops into a squat in an instant – knees bent, ass to the ground, and heels flat against the floor. Surely a skill he learned from working out. His tail sways side to side lightly as he turns the stereo on, plugs my phone into it, and seemingly sets it to a random shuffle. A song I really like comes on, a bit loud, before he lowers the volume to something more decent. I wonder what it’s like to him, considering how sensitive his ears seem to be. “Sorry about that. The last person that touched this thing was Michael, and he listens to music… a bit loud.”

“Oh, that he does, huh.” Pause. “Wait, why was he the last person to fiddle with it?”

“Because he used to work out in my house, here, until he stopped, and he actually liked to listen to music on this thing. I just wear headphones.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.”

It carries the implication that he installed the stereo system just for Michael though. That’s… fascinating.

“Huh, wait, so you’re teaching me right now?”

He’s still squatting next to the stereo, fiddling with some settings. “Yes. Why not? Is there a better time?”

I think for a few moments. “…no, actually. We could just do that now.”

He gets up, clapping his hands together. “Alright.” He turns to me, and the music keeps playing. “Do you have any idea whatsoever what you want to do? General physical conditioning, bodybuilding, calisthenics, aerobic exercise?”

Okay, alright, he’s pelting me with a lot of words and concepts. I blink a few times. “Uh… I just want to be stronger?”

“Physical conditioning, then.” He approaches me, lightly narrowing his eyes, and grabs me by the shoulders. “Hm…” He turns me around, clearly looking me over. “That’s a mesomorph build, alright…”

It’s… ever so slightly uncomfortable. I’m about to say something.

“Alright, take off your shirt.”

I blush and turn to face him. “E-excuse me?”

“What, do you want me to take it off for you?” He crosses his arms. The absolute deadpan seriousness of his tone tells me that he is… absolutely not joking about this. “Actually, can you take off your shirt? Are you wearing an undershirt?”

“I…” I look down. I’m wearing a light blue dress shirt on top of a plain white tank top. “I am…”

“Great. Take your shirt off.”

“W-why?”

He arches his eyebrow, regarding me with an unamused expression. “You don’t want to exercise wearing a whole dress shirt, do you? You move the wrong way and it rips, and it restricts a lot of heat.”

I hadn’t thought of that. “Oh… right.”

“Alright, take it off, c’mon.”

If I didn’t know any better I’d say that he’s almost eager for me to take it off. But he’s probably just thinking of efficiency here. I unbutton my shirt, take it off, and leave it on a bench, neatly folded up. While I did that, Joshua walked over to a rack with dumbbells on it. He’s beckoning me to approach with his back turned upon me.

I walk up to him. “I’m ready.”

He turns to face me, with his arms crossed. I don’t know if it’s just the fact that I’m suddenly so vulnerable and exposed, but I feel very seen. The fact that we’re both wearing tank tops but he’s clearly bigger than me in every aspect isn’t helping me whatsoever – whenever he crosses his arms, his biceps really bulge out, and it’s driving me insane.

He looks me over for a moment as he turns to me. It might be my imagination, but I think I hear him pass saliva.

“Right.” He turns back to the rack. “One of the most elemental kinds of weight is the dumbbell. Assuming you can lift one up, we should begin working with those, because they teach you a lot of stuff about bodybuilding automatically – because you’re in control of every part of the movement, you end up learning proper form with them, which could possibly not happen with a machine. If you cannot lift any dumbbells up, we could start you off with body weight exercises.”

I slowly nod. “I don’t think I understood much of that.”

“Not a problem. You’re going to learn about this stuff as you gain experience.” He grabs my arm and pulls me towards himself. I can feel him kneading at my flesh, like it’s dough. I have… no idea what he’s doing, but it sure is doing a number on me. “Hm…”

“Can you tell how much weight I could lift like this?”

“Not really. I’m just trying to tell how much of your arms is muscle and how much is flab. Tense up your muscles for me.”

I’m not fully sure how to do that, but I still tense up my arm. He frowns slightly and keeps kneading my arm for a bit… and silently turns away. “So… how much of it is flab?”

“Enough.” He pauses. “There’s equipment to measure exactly how much of a person’s body weight is muscle and how much of it is fat, but I don’t have it, and I’m only making a superficial measurement. What I can tell, however, is that you haven’t lifted a single heavy object in your life.”

Ouch?

“Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing. Not everyone actually needs to do it. I’m just saying, based on observations, that it’s clear you’ve never followed a fitness regime seriously, or had to do physical work for a living. It happens. It’s the standard, actually, if you look outside minimum wage workers that have to regularly move cargo, for example.” He lightly taps the dumbbells. “Comfortable life you’ve led, in that case. Again, not a bad thing, since you seem to be aware of the things you’ve had in life, so I can’t fault you for it too much – given that it was all outside of your control and all.”

I’m speechless. “You… guessed all that from groping my arm?”

He takes a deep breath. “Partly, I suppose. You can take a piece of information, add it to your existing set of information, and extrapolate from there with reasonable ease. That’s the basis of first order mathematical logic – or a distorted form of it, applied to more abstract clauses and terms than simple Boolean statements and conditionals.”

I blink a few times, before chuckling nervously. “Your STEM is showing again, Josh.”

He laughs, turning to me and giving me a warm smile. “I guess it is. I have that tendency. Sorry.” He clears his throat. “I’ve got a feel for the kind of weight you should be able to lift, considering your background. Also assuming your right arm is a _bit_ stronger than your left. You’re right-handed, right?” He arches an eyebrow at me.

“…yes?” Wait, is he asking because— “Josh!”

“What?” He takes a second to process what I thought. He rolls his eyes and grumbles at me, before chuckling. “Come on. I’m saying it because using a specific arm the most means the muscle tissue in it develops slightly more, because that is how muscle functions. I’m not… making assumptions about your masturbatory habits.” He snorts and shakes his head.

I just sigh. That was embarrassing.

He turns back to the rack and grabs a dumbbell by the sides with… remarkable ease. It still looks a bit scary to me. “But enough about that.” He turns to me. “Hand out. Palm upwards. Grab this and try to do curls with it – the basic lift.” He lets go of the right side of the dumbbell and does a motion with his arm, where his hand rises and falls, until his hand is right next to his shoulder. Right. Curling.

I put my hand out and grab the handle of the dumbbell. Joshua slowly lets go, and I realize the weight of this thing. But it’s… not unbearable. With my arm limp to my side, I slowly start to lift upwards, and realize how difficult it is—

“No.” He grabs it from my hands and reracks it. “Too much weight.”

“But it didn’t feel too heavy…”

“First lesson of exercise – being able to execute the motion properly is more important than the amount of weight itself. If we need to start you out on a lower amount of weight so that you can execute the motion well, we will, and you were struggling to lift that. You were engaging muscles in your shoulder and torso that shouldn’t have been engaged.” He grabs a smaller dumbbell and hands it to me. “Try this one.”

I grab it and, indeed, it’s lighter than the last one. Much more pleasant. I lift it and let it down. As he keeps looking at me, I repeat the movement. I can definitely do it more easily than before…

…Joshua still shakes his head slowly. “No.”

“No?”

“Well, that seems like a proper amount of weight for you, but you’re not doing the motion properly. You’re moving your whole arm and engaging muscles you shouldn’t be engaging – you’re supposed to be resting all the weight and doing all the motion with your biceps.”

“The biceps…”

He flexes and points at the front of his arm. “This. You know, the biggest mirror muscle group that isn’t the pectorals. The shit that douchebags love to show off.” He grabs another, far bigger dumbbell from the rack and turns to the side, so that the arm holding the weight is facing me. “Pay attention.” Then, he starts curling it, staring straight ahead. “You see? Do you understand what I’m doing?” I notice that he’s inhaling while he lifts and exhaling while he lets the weight down. “Your forearm is the only part that should be moving, and… the upper arm is supposed to stay as static as possible. Parallel to your body, perpendicular to the ground.”

I understand what he’s saying, but I’m also distracted at how his muscles are bulging out as he lifts. “Is that the weight you use?”

“Er, yes.” He frowns at me and sets the weight down on the rack. “You paid attention to what I said, right?”

“Oh, right, sorry.”

“Do the motion again.” He crosses his arms and walks to my side, intently staring at my arm.

“Alright…” I take into account what he said and try to do it. It’s definitely harder to do, now that I’m trying to be mindful of what he told me…

…he shakes his head and clicks his tongue. “No.” He takes a deep breath.

“Sorry…” I set the weight down on the floor.

“No, it’s alright. It’s your first time lifting, so the mind-muscle connection isn’t formed yet, and you don’t cognitively understand the things you should be doing here. You’ll gain that knowledge with experience, but first you need to build it in the first place. And for curling, that means…” He turns to me. “Lift that dumbbell up again.”

“Oh, alright.” I grab it again, starting to feel some soreness in my right arm.

Then, Joshua grabs me by the shoulders, pushes me, and pins me to the wall.

I was not expecting that. The look on his face is so serious that he probably doesn’t realize what this looks or feels like for me, but… my face is starting to burn. “Okay.” He keeps a hand on my right shoulder, and presses his other hand into my elbow, pushing my arm against the wall. “Do the motion again, trying not to let your arm move away from the wall. This will force you to learn how to do the movement.”

“A-alright.” I can feel my fur against the cold wall, and Joshua is dangerously close to me, but he’s very intently staring at my arm. His face is… still mere inches away from me, and he’s so close to me I can stare down his tank top… Still, I do the motion. It’s hard. I can feel it hurt specifically at my biceps, so I guess it’s working, but this is… hard.

Slowly, he starts to nod. “Yes. Like that.” I can feel his breath against my fur. “You understand the motion, and you’re only engaging your biceps with the motion. Alright. Do five like this.”

I grunt, trying to do the movement five consecutive times… it definitely hurts. But I can do them. “There…!”

“Well done!” The light, dad-like praise… “Drop it if you want. That’s what the rubber mat is for.” I try to lean down, but with Joshua’s body in the way I can’t… so I just drop the weight. It hardly makes any noise as it hits the ground. “Alright, now try to do the motion again.” I try to do it again and—

“Whoa.”

“Your arm feels weird, huh? That’s how it’s going to feel for a while after you finish working out, so don’t worry. I’m going to teach you how to do the movement with your other arm, and then I’m going to show you some other movements, alright?” He smiles lightly at me.

“Alright!”

He’s so close to me. I don’t know if he realizes how close we are. He could easily reach over and…

“Haha, we’re… really close right now, huh?”

He blinks a couple of times and slowly looks down at my body, like he’s suddenly realizing how close our chests are – how he can spot the rising and falling of my heavier breathing. The smile on his lips slowly fades, as he comes to that realization – that he fully pinned me to the wall like this. “…huh. We really are.”

I can see his own chest rising and falling as he slowly and steadily breathes. He hasn’t even broken a sweat. The white fur, and the black tufts of fur peeking every now and then. Looking up at his face, his black beard against the whiteness of his fur. His whiskers, also dyed black. The way his long, wavy mane frames his face, and spotting where the natural white color of his roots gives way to the dyed black. The piercings on his triangular ears. Those golden eyes, behind glasses. The gentle pink color of his nose. How it lightly leads down to his lips… and how soft they look. I don’t think I’ve ever kissed a feline.

He is looking directly into my eyes, and I can’t tell what’s going through his mind, but I feel he doesn’t want the moment to end either. We stare at each other like this, in silence, only the sound of my playlist droning on in the background to keep us company, for what feels like an eternity. I lean my head against the wall. I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but I feel he draws closer, and I swear I see him lightly pursing his lips…

He lets out a breath and shakes his head, walking away from me. “Yeah. Sorry for pinning you to the wall like that.” I am… so frustrated. “I just don’t know of a better way to teach you the motion, than ensuring your arm is parallel to a vertical surface, so… yeah. That’s how I learned the motion as well. Heh.” He scratches the back of his head, probably feeling awkward. “I’m sorry for just holding you to the wall like that.”

And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you to keep doing it, but we just don’t get what we want in life, do we?

“It’s alright, Josh. You were just teaching me how it was done.” My mind is racing. For a moment I think ‘and you could teach me a bunch of other things too’, but I catch myself before I say that. Fuck. What is this? Fuck.

He clears his throat. “Well, enough about that. Do the lift with your other arm now. You don’t want to end up looking like a cartoon with an imbalanced build, do you?”

“Right…”

I do as he says, but this time he doesn’t hold me to the wall. It’s definitely slightly harder with my left arm – maybe he was onto something. He shows me a few other exercises using dumbbells, targeting some muscles I didn’t even know I had. Still, he doesn’t get quite as hands-on as he did when he pinned me to the wall. I wonder if he felt bad because of that.

I sit on the bench, sweating lightly now. “Whew… you know a lot about this stuff.”

He crosses his arms and chuckles lightly. “A few years of experience under my belt.”

“Have you ever considered becoming a personal trainer? Heh, you’d be pretty good at it, if I do say so myself!” I lean forward, massaging my sore arms. “You know the kind? The ones that have all these big clients, and they also have social media pages with a lot of followers and stuff? I feel you’re handsome enough that you could pull it off, too!”

He pauses for a few seconds. I feel his eyes glaze over a bit before he blinks and answers me. “Mm, nah. I already have a stable and well-paying gig with what I do. I can’t go into a new business like that.”

“Right, your freelancing.”

“Freelancing in engineering, yes.”

…a stable and well-paying gig in _freelancing?_ I’m assuming that means things are different when you work in STEM for that, because freelancing isn’t what I’d describe as stable. Come to think of it, I don’t know anything about what Joshua does for a living, beyond him saying “freelancing” whenever people ask.

What’s up with that?

He walks up to me. “Alright. I want you to practice the exercises I taught you until you feel you get the form right, alright? I can construct an exercise schedule for you, so that you start seriously working your butt off next week, alright?”

I chuckle. “Isn’t the point of doing this working a butt _on?_ ”

He laughs. “I guess! But also, don’t overwork yourself. You don’t want to injure yourself after your literal first workout, you know?” He looks at the windows and sighs. “Well, I’m gonna go up and keep working. It got a bit late while we were here. I guess time really flies when you’re doing something you like, huh?”

“With people you like, at that.” It slips out of my mouth before I really get to carefully think it over.

Joshua thinks for a few seconds. “…yeah. With people you like, as well.” He takes a deep breath and lightly pats my shoulder. “You’re doing good work, James.” He smiles at me – this warm smile. His touch lingers…

And then he lets go and leaves the room. He closes the door to the room, and I hear him climb the stairs before the other door closes as well. I look around… a home gym with my favorite music playing, and a personal trainer like that… yeah, I could get used to that.

I practice the exercises Joshua taught me a bit, until my arms give out and I’m too tired to continue. I rerack the weights and go back to the stereo, unplugging my phone… and suddenly the room is silent and feels empty. He was right – having music playing helps a lot. I turn off the stereo, flick the lights off, and leave, shirt in arm, feeling my legs a bit wobbly. I climb up the stairs, closing the door to the basement behind me.

Joshua isn’t here. I guess he’s still working. I can’t help noticing that the bottle that used to be on the bar is gone as well. I wonder if he realized I’d grabbed it – it shouldn’t be easy to notice such a thing, since I didn’t drink from it at all. The curtains are closed now as well, and the light here is still on.

Looking around the corner, at the staircase going up, I wonder if I should run up – maybe Joshua is still in his room.

Something else catches my attention, though. A door – another one of the ones that is always locked – is slightly ajar, and I can’t see much inside. The light inside is off. I wonder what’s inside.

I approach and push the door in gingerly, and it swings open with no resistance. I flick the light on, and I’m met with… a bedroom. Just a regular old bedroom, a bit bare-bones, but a bedroom nonetheless. A bed in the middle of the room, with white bedding, and a room that’s decently well decorated while being sober regardless. That’s… interesting. I wonder why Joshua even has a room here – I don’t think I’ve ever seen him or anyone go in here. And suddenly, I wonder what the other locked rooms in the house are like.

…

Steps are approaching. Stomping hard on the ground, and rapidly. Joshua is coming, and suddenly I feel like I did something I shouldn’t have done. He turns the corner and covers the distance between himself and the doorway very quickly. He looks serious. He catches me, and his eyes go slightly wider than before. His eyes dart to the room behind me as he holds the door open.

“Er…”

He looks back to me, and I shrink slightly under his gaze. He sighs. “Oh, it’s just you.”

“…of course it’s just me. Josh? The doors to the house are locked – what… what do you mean?”

He stares at me for a few seconds before shaking his head. “I… nothing. I don’t know what I was thinking about.” For a split second, I feel that he knows something I don’t. “Anyways, what are you doing here?”

“I just…” The thought that something weird is going on fades slightly. “I left the basement and saw this door was open, got curious and pushed it in… a bedroom?”

Joshua runs a hand on his face, in frustration. “…yeah.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“But why?”

He looks at me for a few moments, and his expression softens considerably. “I just…” He looks at the room. “…well, it was supposed to be a secret, I suppose. I just thought that like… since I keep so many rooms in this house unused, I might as well fix them up and rent them out to other people visiting the town – or keep them available in case one of you wants to crash here, so you don’t have to sleep in my room or on the couch, you know.” He crosses his arms and leans against the door. “And I was planning to… show this to you later – your own room, while you’re staying with me, you know? Heh.” He chuckles, rubbing his temples. “So much for that surprise, I guess.”

I… feel like he’s being honest. Actually, yeah, I can completely believe that. Nothing about his story feels odd, and it tracks with the way he is – going out of his way to accommodate for us. For me, specifically, as well. “Oh, it’s alright, Josh.” I walk deeper into the room, looking around. “It looks pretty nice, too.”

He comes in behind me, lightly closing the closet doors when he spots them being open. “Yeah. I wanted to make it feel livable, you know?”

“I’d say you succeeded. But…”

“But…?”

“I’m fine just staying in your room. You don’t have to do all of this for me, yeah? Like, I know you’re doing it because you want to rent the rooms out as well, so just take things at your pace. You don’t need to rush anything for my sake.”

He looks at me and slowly nods, smiling. “Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.” He gestures towards the door. “C’mon, get out now. The room isn’t ready yet – I still need to tidy up a few things about it.”

Strange. It looks plenty tidy to me already. Still, I leave, and Joshua shortly follows, flicking the light off and closing the door behind himself.

I look to my left, and in the darkness of the hallway, I’m met with a second Joshua. The same thing as this morning – this copy with the dark eyes and the chest that opens into darkness. It just stares at me and I stare back. It’s trying to mutter something under its breath that I don’t quite catch.

I hear the real Joshua take a few steps, before he turns and looks at me. “…James?”

I don’t reply, transfixed looking at the creature in front of me.

Joshua moves to my side and stares in the same direction. “What’s… what’s wrong? Are you afraid of the dark now?” He reaches over and flicks the light of the hallway on.

And the creature remains. Until I blink, and then it’s gone. “No, it’s just… I thought I’d seen something.” I can’t exactly tell him I’m seeing things again without him getting worried, I feel.

When I turn to him, he’s still looking in that direction. He blinks, and then he blinks again and turns to face me. “Nothing there.” He looks slightly frazzled – but if I encountered someone staring intently at nothing, I would be as well, so I can’t blame him.

Though, now that I think that, I catch him staring at nothing a lot.

“Yeah, I guess it was nothing. Sorry for scaring you.”

“No, it’s alright.” He clears his throat and looks off into the opposite direction, at a window with a closed curtain. “Getting late, huh…”

“A bit…”

He thinks for a few seconds before he pats my shoulder, obviously with an idea in mind. “Hey, it’s been a long day for you, hasn’t it? You left early and you haven’t stopped at all.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, what do you say if we go out to have dinner? Do you remember that old American-styled diner in town?” He smirks.

“Yeah, I do.” I loved going to that place when I first arrived here. It reminded me of home a bit.

“It’s still around. Do you wanna go there for dinner?”

“Oh!” Now that’s a good plan to my ears. “Yeah!”

He lightly squeezes my shoulder. “Alright then. Just go to the car and wait for me, I need to fetch my keys.” And he walks off.

Time for me to push all concerns from my mind – some good food awaits me.


	10. Wednesday's Thorns (Part 4)

We arrive at the diner as it’s already dark out. It’s in the middle of town – in the commercial district of it, so to speak, but New Blackden is so small that you can’t really talk about it in terms of districts like that. The building is a bit older than the buildings surrounding it, and it looks somewhat out of place. I can’t help wondering how old the place is. It was old back when I first arrived in New Blackden, about five years ago, and it is even older now, five years later. It looks rather out of place – an American diner, through and through, smack dab in the middle of a sleepy Canadian town. It feels like home, on some level, even if it’s nicer than the diner I had back in my hometown, but it’s still mildly jarring. The food is good, so I can’t complain too much. The lights inside are on, people are walking to and fro within, people are eating food that has this sort of homemade charm to it, and the neon sign in stylized letters stares back at me. Mary’s. Mary is the owner’s name.

Joshua parks in the little parking lot behind the diner and turns the car off. We step out. The back of the establishment looks even older than the front, and there’s no customer door to enter – we have to walk all the way around to the front. There’s nobody around, and this parking lot is only illuminated by a single reflector on top of the short, two-story building, aimed at us. Nobody around. Maybe Joshua is just used to parking his car in places like these – but… then again, the town is so small that it’s not like robberies happen often here. Not the same environment as the big city at all.

Sigh.

I don’t notice when he does it, but Joshua comes up to me, hugging me as we walk, his hand lightly rubbing my shoulder. “Aren’t you cold? You’re only wearing a shirt with an undershirt, and even though it’s spring, it gets pretty cold here.”

I shake my head – half answering his question, half shocked by the sudden contact. “Oh, no, it’s alright… the shirt is pretty thick, don’t worry. We’re walking into a building soon, anyways.”

“Alright.” And he lets go. I wonder if I should have said that I am a bit chilly.

I poke his side and smirk. “Like you have any room to talk, Josh. A tank top and just that thin jacket on top?” Indeed, he’s wearing a tank top, and on top of it is this thin, black, hooded cloth jacket. “It’s not even zipped up! And it’s so tight against your body that it might as well be a second skin!”

He arches an eyebrow, looking down. “Alright. But I _am_ wearing a jacket, and you’re not.” A snort. “Sorry that me being so exposed is annoying you so badly.”

“That’s not the point!”

I grumble, and he just chuckles. “Have you seen how fluffy I get? I don’t really have to worry about the cold as much as you do. Come on now.”

We enter the diner, and indeed, as I predicted, the inside is warmer than the outside. The smell of food hits me, and I can’t wait to order. Food and grease. Diner food isn’t known for being healthy. The inside looks about as run-down as the outside, but the restaurant is at half capacity, and it’s not even peak dinner hours, so surely they just prefer to spend the budget on the food? It’s very good. There’s a few families and some groups of friends inside. A group of girls, about my age, at a table on the other side of the diner. Some turn to look at us. There’s a face I swear I recognize, but she turns away too quickly for me to make better connections. Odd.

Joshua takes his jacket off, and I swear the room feels a bit quieter for a moment… but maybe that’s just me. “Over there?” He points at a table towards the wall, close to the window but not directly against it. Small table, two chairs on it. Maybe… meant for couples. Oh.

“Oh, sure!” We make our way to the table and sit down. The surface is ever so slightly sticky. Just the way I remember this place being, for better or for worse.

Joshua leans forward on the table, looking at me. “You know the drill. Order anything you want and I’ll foot the bill, alright?”

“Okay. Thank you, Josh. I’m going to pay you back when I get a job, trust me.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s just a few meals, man. Just let me treat you, yeah? I make enough money to cover the expense.”

I chuckle, blushing slightly. “Alright, alright…”

And then, we wait. A waiter should be here to take our order soon. I check out the menu on the table, even though I’ve mostly memorized the contents by this point, from how often I’ve come here in the past. It hasn’t changed at all. _At all._ I’m sure these printouts are the same ones that used to be here when I first came here, and all.

Our waitress arrives – and, actually, it’s the owner of the diner herself. An old sheep, wrapped in a shawl of sorts, the wool on her head already an off-white hue. She pushes up her glasses and approaches our table, notepad and pen in hand. “Good evening, you two.” Her voice is gentle, yet still hearable in the din of the establishment. Almost grandmother-like in quality.

And that describes a lot about her, doesn’t it? She’s a sweet old lady, even if she’s a bit loony, and all of her mannerisms are like a grandmother’s, even if I don’t know if she has any children. Actually, I’m not even sure if she’s married at all in the first place – everyone just knows her as “Mary”. It’s… impressive and concerning that she’s still working here. She was already old when I first came here, and now she’s even older, and she’s still doing stuff here.

She narrows her gaze, looking at us, like she’s thinking hard – trying to remember us. A smile creeps up her face. “Why, it’s you two!”

Joshua clasps his hands together and gently smiles at her, leaning forward. “We sure are, miss Mary.”

“And you’re back now!” Now she’s looking at me, peering over her glasses. “I remember you! You used to come here all the time some years ago and then went away for school! How did that go?”

The fact that she remembers me somehow warms my heart. Even after all this time without coming back, she still remembers. “Oh, it went well! I finished studying, and I’m back here while my graduation ceremony happens and I save up money.”

“That’s great!”

“Yeah, I’ve got a job lined up at an art gallery over in Sudbury, and I’m going to save up money to hopefully live there as well.”

“Oh, so you’re only here for a while?” She tilts her head. “A shame. I could have you here every day!”

I’m sure eating here every day would give me some sort of coronary disease, so no thank you. “Yeah. Meanwhile, I’m staying with Joshua here, and he’s going to help me get to Sudbury for work as well.” I hadn’t noticed, while looking at her, but Joshua crossed his arms and leaned back on his chair, looking at both of us, with a placid expression on his face. He just nods when I mention that I’m staying over at his house.

“Oh~!” Mary gives me a sing-songy tone that I can’t quite parse. Naughty, almost. “You youngsters and the things you get up to nowadays… in my days, this sort of thing wouldn’t happen, but the world has changed a lot, hasn’t it?”

…

Is she implying we’re a couple?

Heat rushes to my face as I slowly shake my head. “No, no, not like that, we’re not—”

She cuts me off, laughing. Joshua is smiling as well, tilting his head forward and closing his eyes, bemused. Ugh. “Oh, it’s alright, dear. I know how young love is, you don’t have to hide anything from me.”

“But I’m not—”

“Anyways, I feel I’ve taken up enough of your time. What are you going to order?”

Joshua speaks up. “A burger, some fries, and a banana milkshake, please.”

“Oh, that’s a good meal…” She slowly writes out my order, which gives me enough time to take a few deep breaths and compose myself. “And you, dear?”

“Er…” I haven’t really looked too much at the menu, but I still remember what I usually order in these places. Can’t have that right now, though. “A croque madam, please, and… a can of soda.” Sheesh. I’ve eaten really badly the past few days.

“Croque… madam…” She writes out my order on her notepad, squinting. “I’ll have your order delivered as soon as it’s ready, you two lovebirds.” She chuckles, waving at us as she walks away, headed towards the kitchen.

Joshua is chuckling lightly, under his breath, still with his arms crossed. Then… when she’s outside earshot, he sighs, leaning forward on the table and addressing me – a low voice, so that nobody around us can hear but me. “Nosy old lady, huh.”

Oh. That’s a bit surprising. He didn’t seem to be very bothered by it… “Maybe a bit, but… she doesn’t mean anything bad by it.”

“Whether she means one thing or another with her behavior, the end result is the same.” He scratches the side of his forehead with a claw, looking directly into my eyes with an inquisitive expression. “And the end result seemed to be very unpleasant for you. You looked very flustered, and not in a fun way.”

“I… guess I was.” I hadn’t thought about that.

He sighs, closing his eyes. “I knew it was happening, but how could I just tell her to stop? You should never insult someone that’s serving you food, because you never know what they might do to your food.” He lightly shrugs, and I wonder if he’s speaking from experience here. “Still… maybe I should have said something, because of how much it was bothering you. I’m sorry.”

“Wha—no, Josh, it’s alright.” He shouldn’t be beating himself up over this. It’s not like much could be done, really.

“Mm.” He just leans back on his chair, putting his hands behind his head and taking a deep breath, with his eyes closed. My eyes follow his body, and his exposed armpits… yeah, he sure is fluffy. A fluffy mane, and also the thicker patches of fur on his chest and other places of his body. All black and white. He looks good.

As my eyes trail off, I notice that the same group of girls from earlier… and they’re looking our direction, except for one. The one that I felt may be familiar. The girls aren’t… looking at me, I realize. But at Joshua. Huh. I wonder why.

A different waiter comes by shortly after, carrying our order on a tray. He puts plates in front of us, a tall yellow milkshake in front of Joshua, and a can of soda in front of me. He stares at the order paper for a few seconds, seemingly confused, before putting it in front of Joshua. The bill. I try not to think too hard about this one meme I saw online, about bills in restaurants for same gender pairs of friends.

Joshua opens his eyes and leans in. “Thank you.” He nods at the waiter, and the waiter leaves. He looks at the bill for a few seconds… and scoffs.

“What is it?”

He flips it my way. In Mary’s flowery handwriting, along with the calculation for the bill, at the bottom… ‘put the bill in front of the man of the couple!’

…

I close my eyes and bury my face in my hands. “Not this…”

He shakes his hands, looking at the bill in annoyance. “Ridiculous.” He flips the bill back towards himself. “And I guess the waiter just assumed I was the man, then. But… whatever, let’s not let that sour our meal, shall we?”

Funny that he says that, considering what happened earlier today.

He looks down at his food and grimaces slightly. “It looks great, but I’ve been eating like shit these past few days… heh.” He looks at me. “It’s your fault.” He grabs a fry and munches on it. “Usually I eat with many less calories, but whatever. Might end up putting on some weight, maybe…”

“Oh, sorry…” I grab a fork and knife and dig into my sandwich. “My thing isn’t much healthier… I wanted to order a tuna melt, since it’s what I always go for, but I already had a tuna sandwich at lunch, so maybe it wasn’t a good idea. I wouldn’t know – I don’t know as much about nutrition as you do.”

“The fish we get here are usually fished from the local lakes and rivers, so there’s no risk of organic mercury buildup in them. It’s less a dietary concern and more a health hazard in some areas of the world.” He states that so matter-of-factly, like he isn’t just giving me information I don’t fully understand. “You could have ordered a tuna melt and been fine – or as fine as you could possibly be, considering it’s still diner food. This doesn’t exist in my country, and I’m impressed at how unhealthy everything is.”

“Mm…” I take a bite. It’s good, but I can almost feel the oil start to build up on the corners of my mouth. “Yeah, it’s from my country.”

“America, yeah. It’s a staple of American culture, born in the last century. Weird to me that they have a place like this in a shitty small town like New Blackden, but you’re not complaining at all, huh?”

“At all!” I chuckle, still eating.

He eats another fry. “Strange, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Everything.” He grabs his burger and takes a bite out of it – wow, he can open his mouth wide. “It’s a bit ridiculous, stopping to think about it. A Colombian and an American sitting in an American-styled diner in a little Canadian town, one of them eating a French sandwich. It’s just…” He shakes his head a bit. “Sorry. Never mind, my head’s just been all over the place lately.”

“Work stuff?”

“Work stuff.” His ever-elusive job. “But I’m not going to bore you with tales of work. So, about the lunch.”

“Yeah?”

“How badly did it go?”

I nearly choke on the bite of food I was about to swallow, and I quickly open my can of soda to help me down it. “I, uh, I’m sorry?”

He just keeps looking at me, munching on his burger, neutral. “Yeah. How badly did it go? I could tell you looked disappointed when you came home, so I feel something may have happened.”

“I…” Well, he’s right, but I don’t know how he gleaned that much just from looking at my face. “So I arrived and they were there, yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“We all ordered food, Michael paid for our meals but didn’t eat anything himself…” Joshua arches an eyebrow. That must be odd of Michael. “We ate, making small talk, Michael hardly talked, and afterwards he… apologized for what happened last Monday.”

Slowly, he nods. “Right… and then?”

“Well… I asked him why he didn’t invite you directly, because he’d invited Brett and Tyler directly.” He closes his eyes. He must know where I’m going to take this. “And then he showed me his phone, your last messages, and the fact that you blocked him.”

“I did, yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about that? And why didn’t you show up to get an apology yourself?”

He takes a deep breath. “Alright. Maybe I should have told you that I did that, and I’m sorry, but I was really not preoccupied with getting an apology from him. I knew you deserved one, because it was a party for you, and, in retrospect, you wanted to do something very important in that party – that you couldn’t do, as all that happened.”

“But you organized the party, drove us there and brought our food—”

He clicks his tongue and makes an annoyed face, waving his hand at me dismissively. “Oh, hush about that. I didn’t mind the loss – you were more urgent.” It… really bothers me how little he seems to care about the situation’s implications for him. “Anyways, anything interesting happen after?”

“Right, uh… I asked him why he wasn’t apologizing to you directly. Then, slowly, he got more annoyed, and…” Joshua closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, seeming frustrated.

Since I don’t continue, he speaks. “And he exploded.”

“Yeah…”

He grumbles, taking a sip out of his drink. “I’m… I wish I could say I’m surprised. But by this point I’m not. What was it about this time?”

“Well… after all I saw yesterday, I confronted him and also Brett and Tyler about the stuff surrounding you.” He opens his eyes and looks at me. “You know, the… the way Michael says that you turned you back on the group, while you keep helping them, and how neither of them do anything to stop him when he starts doing that, so he just gets to do it without any opposition. It bugged me a lot.”

Joshua rubs his face with one hand. “I shouldn’t have told you that.” He sounds tired.

“He took it as a personal attack, and went on this… weirdly homophobic tirade against me. Like… saying that since I’m living with you, I only see things through your eyes, and that now I’m in love with you, and… calling me slurs.” His hands slide down his face, and he grumbles louder. “It was weird. But I was just having none of it, so I got up and left, not before telling them all that I’m gay.”

“I’m not surprised about that either.”

“About what?”

“You getting up and leaving. You’ve always been kinda headstrong when push comes to shove, even if you’re so soft-spoken. It’s good that you didn’t just let him walk all over you when he did that.” He shakes his head. “But what a mess.” And he gets back to eating.

“But, actually, there’s another thing that bugs me a lot.”

“Yeah?” He looks about ready to hear more complaints about that stuff.

“You. The way you approach all of this, Josh.” He arches an eyebrow at me. “Like… why you don’t bother stopping him, or why you didn’t even think you deserved an apology for that, or how me saying that I confronted him just made you say that you shouldn’t have told me how he treats you – how they all treat you, actually. You’re letting them walk all over you – the thing you said I didn’t do. It’s just… why? You deserve to be treated better than that.”

He looks at me for a few seconds, serious. Slowly, he closes his eyes. “…I guess because I don’t see a point anymore.”

“How so?”

“Michael just heaps abuse on me and I don’t care enough to do anything about it. Every time it happens, he comes back after a while, with his tail between his legs, apologizes, and there’s some relative calm before it happens again. A cycle. I didn’t bother going and I didn’t care about getting an apology because it’s the same thing each time, and after the umpteenth unfulfilled apology, I just don’t care anymore. That’s time and effort I could spend at work, you know?” He bites his burger and swallows. “And it’s none of the others’ business if they don’t want to do anything about it. If I don’t bother, I don’t think anyone else should bother in my stead. Which is why I don’t think that you should have done that either – or that I should have told you that stuff in the first place.”

“But… it’s not fair.”

He grumbles, putting his burger back on his plate. He almost rubs his face with both hands until he realizes his left hand is full of grease, causing him to just let out a harsh sigh. “Look…” He looks at me, with a… surprisingly empathetic expression on him. “The version of me that Michael constructed in his mind is none of my business, James.” That’s… heavy. “It’s something he came up with on his own, using information he felt was correct regardless of what’s happening in reality, and there’s nothing I can do to affect it, so I just… don’t. I don’t try.”

We look at each other for a few moments. “So you gave up.”

He looks down at his food. After a few seconds, he scoffs. “Yeah. I guess I just gave up, huh.” He chuckles bitterly, sighing. “Just finish your food before it gets cold, alright? I guess you gave me something to think about now.”

I really hope he actually thinks about what happened just now, because this… doesn’t seem sustainable at all. I keep eating and enjoying my meal. We make some quiet small talk inbetween bites – I finish before he does, probably because he has more food. He finishes his burger, wipes the grease away with a few napkins, and pulls a bottle of hand sanitizer from his pocket, squirting some into his palm before rubbing them together. “Since I doubt they have a working sink and soap here.” He wipes the sanitizer off with more napkins… I guess this is as clean as it’s going to get.

“Yeah, probably not.” I chuckle.

He leans forward. “Should probably go to pay now. Where’s the lady…” He looks around, not spotting Mary behind the register. Finally, he spots her, near the entrance. “Hm, maybe I’ll have to wait.” It seems that at some point a shipment of ingredients or something like that arrived, because she’s signing something and shaking a uniformed man’s hand. He drops a crate of something on the ground, from the truck bearing the colors of his uniform, and starts unloading more things. Mary turns around, looks inside the establishment with a worried expression – maybe looking for someone.

“Is there no more staff here right now?” I look around as well. “Maybe nobody is around to help with…”

And then, she bends over, grabs the edge of one of the crates, and starts pulling it backwards into the diner, laboriously. Joshua blinks a couple of times. “…she’s going to throw out her fucking back doing that.” She’s struggling. “You never lift with your back, but with your thighs. That’s why you bend your knees to crouch to the ground… though I wonder if someone her age can even do that.” We look at her for a couple of seconds before Joshua gets up and starts walking towards her—

“Wait, Josh, you just ate.”

He looks at me with a completely nonplussed expression. “Yeah, and if I don’t do something, she’s probably never eating again.” He turns away and starts walking over. “Do you need any help?” I guess he is less full than I am – because I feel I can’t even move properly now.

Mary’s eyes light up as she spots him. “Oh, yes!” She lets go of the crate and slowly stands back up, grimacing in pain and placing a hand on her lower back. “If you could help me carrying these into the kitchen, I’d be very grateful…”

Joshua looks out into the street, crossing his arms. “Healthy amount of crates you ordered. Is nobody here to help you carry this stuff in?”

“No… I just had one waiter on shift but he already left, and all the cooks are busy…”

“No dedicated employee to unload supplies like these either, I’m assuming.”

“No…”

He takes a deep breath. “Well, consider getting one. I’m gonna carry this stuff in, so that you don’t throw your back out, alright?”

She smiles at him. “Oh, yes! Thank you very much… it’s nice to see this kind of nice and strong young man still exists!”

He snorts. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Stand to a side and make sure all the crates are accounted for, please.” She complies, and he drops to a squat, holding onto the crate. He lifts up, and with a simple “hup” sound, hoists it over his shoulder. Then, he walks into the back, carrying it, seemingly effortlessly. And he repeats the process several times…

And I can’t help staring. He’s so strong, but also so nice and helpful. Not to sound like miss Mary or anything, but yeah, she’s right. He doesn’t even seem to break a sweat with each crate he carries into the back, and since he’s just in a tank top, I can see how his muscles tense up as he lifts them and balances them on his body. The way his back looks… He is just… so masculine. He just oozes this sense of raw sex appeal and manliness – it’s not overbearing, it’s not toxic, but he’s a _man_. It just hits the right way. I gulp.

And… I wonder how much of it is deliberate. I wonder if it’s something he’s carefully worked towards, to make himself completely irresistible, or if this is just the way he’s been from the very beginning. If it’s carefully manicured – if this is something he’s doing on purpose – I… can’t help but wonder why, because I never see him do much with it. Sure, there’s the hookups – that I’m not privy to for obvious reasons – but someone that is pure walking _sex_ could do a lot, constantly, with their energy, and he just doesn’t. What’s up with that.

My eyes drift to the side, and I see the group of girls is still here… and they’re staring at him too. Suddenly, it clicks – they’re ogling him. And very openly, as well, except for one of them. They’re whispering amongst themselves and giggling, mesmerized by Joshua…

And I don’t know why that bothers me so much. I don’t know why, but I really wish they’d stop doing it. Either he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, but I definitely notice and care, and it’s bugging me. I know that it’s no different from what I, myself, am doing, but it still bothers me when strangers do it to him. They’re just… really taking in the eye candy. What is… this feeling? Why do I feel like this over this situation?

Another figure enters the diner, waves at miss Mary, and picks a crate up himself. I can’t make out his features – his head is blocked by the way he’s holding the crates up – but he looks pretty big. Big muscles, and developing a bit of a belly. Wearing the stuff that sports coaches wear, with a dark blue jacket, and blue sweatpants with white stripes on the sides, along with sneakers. His exposed hand has a sort of odd, off-auburn color for his fur.

Why does he remind me of someone?

The girls at the table seem to not be… terribly interested in him. I wonder why – they just keep looking at Joshua. Ugh. Joshua realizes someone is helping, and he nods at him, stoically. After all the crates are moved, he returns to Mary, arms crossed. He produces the bill from his pocket, hands it to her, and then pays her for the food. She thanks him, thanks the other man, and goes to the register, to give him his change. Joshua talks with the other man a bit – he’s slightly taller than him. I can’t make out his features, because he’s facing away from me, but from the back, his ears look… canine. He doesn’t have much in the way of headfur, keeping it short, so he looks a bit plain.

He really reminds me of someone, and I hope I’m wrong.

Joshua bows at him as Mary returns, with the change in her hands. She gives the money to Joshua and he puts it in his wallet, before pocketing it and nodding at her. He returns to our table and sits down, stretching his arms. “Well, that’s that. Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah. I can’t believe you actually went and did that…”

“Why not? She needed the help, and I could give it.” He shrugs.

I smile. “Not everyone sees things like that, Josh. It’s just nice to me, is all.”

He chuckles. “Well, alright, then. Let’s…” He trails off, looking to the side, and I see the man that helped him is approaching. “Good evening, can I help you?”

And as I look at his features, I realize I was right, no matter how much I wish I wasn’t. I know this guy. My arms slightly tense up as I look at him and memories come flooding back. Joshua’s eyes dart towards me… and his expression hardens.

“Nah, nothing, man.” A voice I remember. “Just wanted to say it’s cool how you helped the old lady. Not many real ones like that out these days, huh?”

“Uh huh.” And suddenly, Joshua is much more caustic. I can feel the hostility in his voice. What… happened?

“Yeah, you know it.” This… smarmy ass. Smarmy isn’t even the right word for it, but I’m filled by so much anger and anxiety that I can’t find the right word. “Anyways, I’m gonna leave you alone with…” He finally notices I’m there. His face lights up. “…wait, James Mason? No way…!”

“…in the flesh.” I sigh and lean forward, looking at the wolf’s brown eyes. For sure, I remember him.

Craig Evans. An old acquaintance of sorts. A high school bully of mine, and… and other things. Someone I wished I wouldn’t have to see ever in my life again. Vaguely handsome, but not enough for me to forget the way he treated me before. Now standing before me, in New Blackden, where I assumed nobody from my past would be able to find me. He’s… still a big meaty jock, but he’s let himself go. A coach. Really? And with that belly…

“How’s it going, pal?” He laughs and raises his hand to give me a high five… that I deliberately don’t take. He just rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Alright, bud…”

“It’s going.”

“How has life been treating you?” So he’s… fully going to act like my friend now, huh?

“It’s—”

“It has been going great for him.” Joshua cuts me off. “He just graduated with a four-year degree at a prestigious art school in Toronto and has a job lined up in Sudbury, while he stays here in the meantime as he needs to save up money.” Wow, this is… Joshua is usually a bit cold, but this is a facet of him I’ve never met. You could cut someone on his tone.

Craig arches his eyebrows, chuckling. “So I see! Looks like it’s been going great!” He turns to me again. “Hey, James, I know that it’s been a few years since we last talked, so how about I give you my phone number and we catch up sometime? I’m living here for a bit as I work as a coach for this foundation that’s here in town.”

Oh no. I blink a couple of times before speaking. “Did you ever stop to consider that there’s probably a reason it’s been years since I talked? Since I graduated high school and no longer had to see your face every day, specifically?”

People are looking at us now. The group of girls in the corner are looking, mildly shocked. I still don’t think I care much but…

Craig draws a sharp breath in through his teeth. “Ooh, buddy, that’s rough…” He clicks his tongue. “But, well, it’s been a few years, right? We could just try and catch up, let bygones be bygones, you know? I’m different from the way I was back then, James, and I wanna get to know the _you_ of right now.” He is not doing this. It’s like he doesn’t care about the absolute disbelief in my face right now. “Actually, lemme—” And he reaches over, pulling a napkin from the holder in our table, and produces a pen from the pocket of the polo he’s wearing under his jacket. He uncaps it with his teeth and writes something on the napkin. Probably his number. He finishes. “There we go!” He caps his pen, puts it away, and puts the napkin on the table—

And Joshua slams his hand down on it, crumpling it up, staring directly into Craig’s eyes. If looks could kill… but I wonder why he’s doing all this. “Did you not understand when he said he didn’t want to see you again?”

The girls in the table in the corner are talking amongst themselves again, more frenetically this time around. With more anxiety and concern.

Craig sighs. “Yeah, but I don’t think it’s fair, because I’ve worked on myself and improved, you know? Come on, man, it’s an old classmate and I want to catch up—”

“It doesn’t seem like at any point you bothered to contemplate whether _he_ wanted to catch up.”

Craig stares at him for a couple of seconds. Is he going to punch him? He just chuckles nervously and looks at me. “Boy, he’s really protective of you, huh?” He has a point. “What, is he your boyfriend or something?”

There’s no way he’s starting up with this shit again. Not in public, not like this. Not with Joshua with me.

“And what if I am?”

What?

I harshly turn my head towards Joshua – what did he just say? The shock on my face is plain, but he’s more interested in burning a hole into Craig’s skull with his sight. No hesitation. Just… that.

Craig is taken aback a bit. “Oh… oh, haha, alright then!” He shakes his head. “Don’t worry, bud, I’m not trying to steal him. I respect private property, you know? Just wanted to catch up with an old classmate. Well…” He claps his hands together. “Think I’ve spent enough time here. Just hit me up, alright, James? Just a friendly catching up!” He waves and jogs off.

And the tension in Joshua’s body… seems to melt away. He lets out a deep sigh. The people around us stop looking, but some are still staring at Joshua. Maybe the implication that we’re gay and together. “God…”

“Um…” I clear my throat. “Thank you, but why did you… react like that?”

He looks at me. “Didn’t you notice how you reacted the moment you saw him? Your muscles tensed up, your ears dropped, your lower eyelids tensed up. It was clear the guy made you beyond uncomfortable to me.”

I hadn’t noticed that. “Oh…”

“And, well, it seems I was right. Who was that guy?”

“He’s… well, he was a homophobic high school bully of mine.”

One of the things he was. Joshua doesn’t need to hear the rest and neither do I.

He blinks a few times. “…a homophobic bully?”

“Yeah? Why?” Why is he so confused over this?

“That’s… interesting.”

“Why?”

He looks at me for a few moments. “Because I’ve hooked up with him before.”

Oh. Oh, no.

“But I guess him doing that in high school is… appropriate, then. Didn’t know himself, was trying to deny things, so on and so forth. But… didn’t you only discover you were gay in college? Why did he…”

“I’m… not sure either. He just latched onto me and decided everything I did was too effeminate for him.” I snort. “I guess, in retrospect, he was onto something, huh?”

Joshua shakes his head. “James, don’t… never mind.”

“Though…”

He arches an eyebrow.

“Can you give me the napkin?”

He gives me a curious glance as he opens his fist, dropping the crumpled up napkin on it. I spread it – and, indeed, that’s his phone number. I fold the napkin up and pocket it.

“…why do you want that?”

I think about it for a few seconds. “I feel maybe I should talk to him. I don’t intend to try and do what he wants me to do, but like… I still want at least an explanation and an apology from him.”

Joshua… deflates a bit. “Are you sure that’s the best choice to make?”

I’m not. “I don’t know. I just know it’s what I want to do.”

He pauses for a few seconds, slowly nodding. “…alright. I can’t stop you. I just hope you don’t regret that.” He shakes his head. “I got… really protective there, huh.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, you really did.”

“I’m sorry. I bet it was creepy and uncalled for, but… seeing how uncomfortable you were, I didn’t know what else to do to get him off your back. Real creep activities…” He rubs his face with his hands.

I gently pat his shoulder. “No, it’s alright, Josh.”

He looks up at me. “Really?”

“Yeah. I… probably needed that. And I felt it was sweet.”

He keeps staring at me for a few seconds. His lips are slightly agape. I can feel him softly breathing – rising and falling, as my hand rests against the taut muscle of his shoulders. It… almost reminds me of earlier today, in his gym.

He looks outside. “Hey, it’s getting late. We really should get going.”

He’s right. “Yeah, I’m a bit tired – I think I need to sleep off all the food I ate…”

…

Getting home and getting ready for bed goes by well enough. Joshua is already in the room, already in his underwear, checking some things out on his phone. I already added the number on my napkin to my phone and sent it a message. Craig’s profile picture is himself, wearing sunglasses and standing in the middle of a grassy field. What a douche. I sent him a message, asking if he could meet me for lunch tomorrow at the same diner, and he said yes – if I’m going to do this, I’d rather do it in a public place, and someplace where I feel comfortable.

I’m not fully sure why I’m even doing it. I could just cut him out of my life and forget he ever happened. Maybe it’s me riding a high from the way I stood up to Michael today, and how I didn’t cower before Craig when I met him again… Joshua is right. I hope I don’t come to regret this.

I pull my pendant out from under my shirt and hold it tight, closing my eyes.

I hear Joshua set his phone down on the nightstand. “What are you doing?”

I open my eyes, to be met by him looking at me inquisitively. “Oh, nothing, I’m just… thinking.”

He looks at my hand, and I open it, showing him my pendant. “You still have that, huh?”

“Yeah. My mother gave it to me as a child, and I’ve had it my whole life. It just feels comforting to keep it on me.” And I have only taken it off to shower since I arrived to the town.

Joshua approaches, kneeling by my side, to look at it. “Can I touch it?”

“Yeah.”

He grabs the polished gem gently, spinning it slowly in his fingers. “What is it?”

“It’s a polished fragment of quartz.”

I forget what meaning it had. Mom used to be big on crystal healing when I was very young, but she grew out of all that stuff over the years, I guess. After she met my stepfather. I just call him dad. She just gave this to me when I was very young and told me to hold onto it, because it’d give me luck or something like that, and then I did. Just having it on me… is comforting. I don’t really believe in all that crystal magic woo, but I still like keeping this on me.

“I see.” He lets go of it and grabs the cross hanging from his neck. “I guess we both have similar things on us at all times, huh?”

I look at it – and at his bare chest, mere inches from my face. “Yeah.” He’s just in his underwear. “It’s nice, a thing we have in common.”

“Yeah…” We stay there for a few moments, just contemplating the stuff we keep on us. He has that cross for no deep reason beyond thinking it looks nice – I know that much. But it’s still nice. I look up at him, and he looks at me, gently.

He blinks and pats my shoulder. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

“Yeah… today was a long day.”

“Sure sounds like it, for you…” He chuckles. “Good night, James.” He squeezes my shoulder softly.

“Good night, Josh…”

He flicks the light off with his tail and climbs into bed. It feels like the moment my head hits the pillow, I fall asleep…

…

I’m woken up in the middle of the night, before I start dreaming, by the sound of something banging on the wall. It’s dark. I slowly sit up, rubbing sleep from my eyes. I turn around… Joshua is in front of the same wall from last night. Is he sleepwalking again? I get up, to try and guide him back to his bed.

He takes a few steps back… and then rams his whole body into the wall, full force, and stays there. The shock jolts me awake. His eyes are closed, and I can see a trickle of blood run down the wall, from his face. His nose. I approach him—

“An… drea.”

He pulls the front of his underwear down. He slams the palms of his hands against the wall, and it’s like he’s trying to grip something invisible. He’s thrusting his hips into the wall pretty hard, and I… can only assume he took his penis out. He’s pretty vigorously making out with the wall as well. What the fuck?

As I step closer, I realize he is… vigorously muttering something under his breath. It sounds like Spanish to me. With what little Spanish I speak, I can tell that… he is calling someone or something a whore. Repeatedly. Very intensely. The raw bile in his tone is frightening. It’s so violent – the way he’s gripping the wall, what he’s doing… his tongue is smearing blood on the wall…

“Joshua!” Finally, I speak.

The thrusting slows down. “A… Andrea… Andrea…” And it stops completely. “…James…?” I don’t know if it’s the weirdness of the whole situation, but it almost feels like the tone of his voice changed – like I couldn’t recognize the voice that was speaking before, but now, the voice that said my name is distinctly Joshua’s.

He pulls his underwear back up, presumably shoving his dick into it. He turns to me. There’s a light trickle of blood down his nose, and now his eyes are open… with his expression completely blank. The stiffness in his underwear dies down almost immediately. “James…”

I don’t know what to say.

He lifts a hand up and clumsily puts it on my shoulder. “James… you’re…” He pulls me into a hug. “Thank… you…” He staggers forward – almost taking me into the bed with him. He’s too heavy for me to push off should that happen… but he lets go. And then he just climbs into bed and closes his eyes, like nothing happened.

What… the actual fuck?

In the darkness of the room, I can tell that the wall is messy. Barring the blood running down it, there’s a stain of spit around the height of his tongue, and a stain of something else around the height of his…

I open the door and go to the bathroom, grabbing some toilet paper. I wipe down the wall, cleaning it up. It all goes away. I go up to him and gently dab his face clean of the blood that came out of his nose. I know someone with a bloody nose shouldn’t lay down, but it looks like the bleeding stopped completely…

In his sleep, he gently kisses my hand.

No. I’m too tired and it’s too late to deal with all of this. I toss the dirty paper into the bathroom’s trash can, wash my face, and crawl back into my bed. This day has been hell.

* * *

A grey void. The same one from last night’s dream. There’s no wall this time. I’m no longer a disembodied conscience – I’m in my body here. I’m only in my underwear, as well.

I look around and spot Joshua. He’s also only in his underwear. He’s giving me a stoic expression – very serious. He slowly approaches me, until he’s only about one foot from me, our bodies almost touching. He’s… so big and imposing. Out of nowhere, he pulls out his lighter and a cigarette. He lights it, exhaling the first puff of smoke into the air.

“Do you want to see the real world?” His voice is deadpan. “Do you want to witness reality?”

I’m not sure what he means, but I slowly nod regardless.

He takes a deep drag of his cigarette, ending it in a single breath. His strong hand clasps my jaw, turning my head up. He shoves his thumb into my mouth, forcing my lips to part and forcing my mouth open. And then, he comes in, pursing his lips… and kisses me. His lips are… soft against mine. He tastes like alcohol, and smoke, and cherries, and emptiness. His tongue is long, and wrestles against mine. I feel like I’m melting.

He starts to exhale into my mouth – shotgunning all the smoke in his lungs into me. I can feel its bitter stench fill me from the inside. He keeps going. It’s overpowering. It’s too much. He holds fast, still kissing me as he exhales, and I feel my lungs fit to burst. Smoke starts to come out of my nostrils, rising into the air. My vision blurs, and the sensations fade…

…and, before long, I’m in deep haze. I stopped feeling the hand holding my jaw some moments ago, and Joshua isn’t there anymore. Or… I think he isn’t there. I wouldn’t be able to see him, because of how thick the fog is. It’s overpowering. It feels like the fog is inside my brain – like it’s dulling my every sensation, and the very way I interface with the world. There’s so much. No matter where I look, there’s fog. I’m not even sure if I’m seeing it anymore.

Shadows in the fog. Figures undulating against each other – rhythmic motion. Is this… sex? Sound starts to appear in my ears – muffled, like it’s coming from behind a wall, far away. It sounds like… gasping. Moaning. Sounds of pleasure. In the fog, I walk towards the undulating, creeping shapes, and they vanish before I can reach them… but their sound remains.

And the moans are Joshua’s. His voice is higher in pitch, for some reason, but that’s unquestionably him. I’ve listened to him enough that I can imagine what he’d sound like doing this, and this… is what he’d sound like.

“Why would you want to witness the real world?”

His voice behind me. I turn around, and there’s nothing there but darkness. And the darkness consumes everything – including my body – and now there’s only silence. Nothingness.

And somehow I feel that this is the logical end of it all.


	11. Thursday's Bleeding Wounds (Part 1)

…Even as I awaken, I stare at the ceiling for a few minutes. I don’t know what that was all about. Not just what Joshua did last night – which I can now process, now that I’m awake – but the dream I had. Ever since I got back to this town, my dreams have been getting… weirder and more specific. I dream almost every time I sleep, and my dreams aren’t really easy to comprehend for the most part, but something about the dreams I’ve been having lately feels… different. They feel more esoteric and more direct, and I realize… most of the dreams I’ve had since coming back have involved Joshua.

I rub my face. You’d imagine that “my dreams involve my very hot roommate” would entail sexy stuff, but it’s mostly just bizarre. Him smoking in his underwear, looking absolutely miserable. Gunshots, him forcing himself upon me, undulation. Physical violence, and…

…and a voice, on the dream I had two nights ago, that I now realize belongs to Craig. The one I heard before I got punched square in the middle of the face… I think? But… why would I dream something like that?

Though… the very next day I did encounter him in this very town, when I wasn’t expecting to. It feels almost… prophetic.

…

Like something is trying to tell me something.

**_Like someone is trying to bring images to you._ **

…

No, I can’t just dwell on this matter like this. It’s ridiculous to think that there’s some deeper meaning – it’s dreams. I turn over and, indeed, there’s a post-it note on my phone, as expected.

‘is there any point to leaving these here anymore? you know the drill.  
~j’

Strangely… pessimistic. I throw the covers off my body and put yesterday’s pants on before coming down the stairs. As I arrive at the kitchen, I spot Joshua – shirtless, as usual. I’m not surprised, but I don’t know if I’m ever going to get used to it. His mane is down, looking a bit messy, like he hasn’t brushed it yet. He’s standing in front of the stove, looking down… and not moving.

“Hey, Josh.” I sit at the bar.

He shakes his head a bit and turns to look at me. “Oh. Morning.” Narrowing his eyes, he looks at a clock on the wall… “…huh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just later than I thought it was.” He crosses his arms. “I actually… figured I’d have your breakfast ready before hopping into the shower. It’s your usual awakening time as well, so I guess I’ve been here longer than I thought.”

“Oh… I guess people just lose track of time like that.” Though… “Doing what?”

He turns back to the stove, grabbing the empty pan on it by the handle and showing it to me. “I’m not sure. Deciding what to even make for breakfast, I guess. I’ve… never had to make a lot of meals for another person like this before, so I’m a bit short on ideas.”

I giggle. “Hey, that’s sweet.” He scratches the back of his head, looking away.

But a question burns in my head. If I woke up yesterday around the time Joshua gets up, and he commented on it, and assuming Joshua got up at his usual time today… that means he’s been standing in front of the stove unsure of what to make for over an hour. It doesn’t look like he’s done literally anything else all day – he looks like he just rolled out of bed and all, so I can’t say he’s gone to the bathroom, groomed himself, brushed his mane, had a shower… anything. How does one just stand in one place for an hour like that?

“I don’t know. It just feels like the bare minimum.”

“Your bare minimum and the bare minimum of the average person are very different, Josh.” I chuckle. “You know, I had to make all my breakfasts in school. I never properly learned how to cook lunches or dinners, so I just ordered stuff, but my roommates never bothered to cook anything for me. You could just be like that – we’re basically roommates.”

He looks at me for a few seconds. “…I guess I could be like that, but it’d feel wrong.” He sighs. “I just… anyways.”

I tap on the counter a bit, thinking. “What would you have for breakfast if you were by yourself, Josh?”

He looks down for a bit, thinking. “I’d just dice up some fruit, make some eggs, brew some coffee, and have that.”

“Then just make that, if you want. Or I could make my own breakfast, if you want.”

“No, no. You’re my guest, and I’m going to cook for you. Just… it sounds so simplistic.”

“Simple is good sometimes, you know?”

He looks at me. “I guess you’re right. It won’t take long, then.” He turns on the stove and puts the pan back on it, and I realize we had this conversation while he was holding an empty pan. He greases it up with a stick of butter and opens the fridge, getting some stuff out of it. He cracks a couple of eggs into the pan. “Soy sauce eggs are fine, right?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

He takes a bottle of sauce out of the pantry and pours some of it into the pan, before stirring with chopsticks. It doesn’t take long for the eggs to be done, and he transfers them to a plate before putting it in front of me and handing me a fork. “Uh, I’m not done with your drink yet, sorry.”

“It’s fine. You apologize a lot, Josh.” I giggle.

He goes back to the fridge, digs around in it, and pulls out an orange, staring at it for a few moments. “You like orange juice, right?”

Alright, he’s not acknowledging the comment at all. “Yeah, I like it!”

“Right.” He takes a few more oranges out and puts them on the counter, pulling a knife and a juicer out. He puts an empty glass on the table, cuts the oranges in half… and starts juicing them. Oh, I thought he meant he had one of those orange juice cartons, but… seeing his muscles tense up like this? I can’t complain much. He finishes before long, keeping all the discarded skins on the table, and pours the juice into the glass, straining the seeds out. He puts the glass in front of me as well. “Here. There’s something said about drinking orange juice when it’s been freshly squeezed, right? Before all the vitamins escape or something?”

“Something like that, yeah!”

“I see… we don’t really have a saying like that in my country because we don’t drink much orange juice for breakfast, or in general, really.”

Now that’s new. “Oh?”

“Yeah. And… looking at this and all the stuff I had to do to make your glass of juice… it feels wasteful, almost.” He chuckles. “I’m sorry. I just think of all the lost pulp and the fiber that you’re not eating if you drink orange juice.” He looks at the discarded skins. “It might be weird, but I’m almost tempted to just… tear the remaining fiber from the inside out and eating it.”

“Oh, I mean, it’s your house and you can do anything you want with your diet, it’s fine.” Though that makes me wonder. “How do you consume oranges over there, then?”

Joshua grabs one of the unspent oranges and cuts it into quarters. “Well, it’s not a national or cultural thing. This is just how I learned to do it in my house – it’s just a thing that my mother did, because my grandmother did it, and so on.” He grabs one of the quarters of orange, splits the pulp from the skin… and then sinks his teeth into the pulp, pulling them away like that and popping the entire quarter of orange, minus skin, into his mouth. He chews, some orange juice dribbles out the corners of his mouth, and he swallows, spitting the seeds out into the piece of skin he’s holding on his hand. “Like that.”

“Oh, wow. That’s impressive, actually.”

“It’s just how I learned to do it. You eat it like that and you get the juice, the pulp and the fiber. Kind of the way you eat a tangerine – and I’m sad to see all that pulp and fiber go to waste when juicing an orange.” He grabs another of the quarters and does the same thing, wiping some of the juice on the corners of his lips with the back of his hand… and him doing that lets me focus a lot on how sharp his teeth look. I realize that he’s a lion and all, but wow. Those fangs are a lot longer than the surrounding teeth, and the way they sink into the soft flesh of the fruit…

I don’t know if it’s terrifying or arousing. Or both, at the same time.

“Mm.” He swallows, spits the seeds out, and sets the skin on the counter. “You know… I don’t know if it’s a strange comment to make – and I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’m a predator animal – but…” Oh, maybe he read my thoughts a bit. “There’s something… about taking food and tearing it apart and sinking my teeth into it that is very satisfying to me. I don’t know why – I don’t know why this action makes my brain release so many endorphins, but I distinctly enjoy it. I don’t know if it’s just something in my primal brain that enjoys doing it – calling back to the primal ancestors – but I like doing it.”

I look at him a few moments. “I had… never considered that. I don’t think it’s something I’ve experienced, myself.” I didn’t know Joshua had this kind of introspection in him – stopping to think about matters as esoteric as the way our brains are wired and how they affect us nowadays.

“Mm.” He takes another slice of orange and eats it the same way, staring down at the ground for some seconds. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Is it still a speciesist comment if you’re making it about yourself?” He snorts, and the suddenness of the question catches me off guard, making me laugh too. “I mean, all the stuff about the primal brain, being a predator, you know…”

“I mean…” I laugh some more. “I think so? But it also seems inoffensive?”

“I see…” He finishes eating his orange. “I stumble with that stuff a bit still. People up here in Canada are more… _aware_ of that sort of stuff. It’s not like this back home – people are really casually speciesist in ways I didn’t realize until I got to leave the country. Stuff like…” He looks at me. “Mm. Actually, I don’t think I should tell you the kind of things I’ve heard acquaintances say, but it’s not pleasant.”

“Haha, don’t worry, I’ll take your word for it.” Which actually reminds me of something else. “Though…”

“Hm?” He’s taking out more eggs to cook as we talk.

“You remember how you said nobody in your family knows that you’re gay?”

“Yes.” He’s greasing up the pan and cracking a couple of eggs into it, starting to stir.

“And how your little brother is probably the only one that you’re coming out to, when the time is right? Why are you so sure that he’ll take it nicely?”

It’s a bizarre question, I realize, but I hope he doesn’t take it badly. He stops stirring and looks up, in thought… before chuckling. “Well… God, it feels weird to even imagine saying this out loud to someone else.” He looks at me. “But… no, you went to an art school in Toronto, you will probably understand what I mean.”

Some part of the delivery of that line is amusing to me.

“You know how there’s like… a type of person in social media that puts the pronouns they use in their description or their biography or wherever?”

I pause for a few seconds. I can’t believe Joshua of all people is talking to me about this stuff. “Yes.”

“And how there’s a special kind of… _individual_ that gets incredibly angry at seeing it?”

I sigh. “Yes.”

“Well, my little brother has this… profile. It’s not the same profile he has family members added to, but I know it’s him. He has that stuff on there, and he also says he specifically has it there to annoy the sort of person that’s annoyed by that stuff. Which is…” He chuckles. “I can’t believe I’m saying this to someone. It even works differently in Spanish, but he just has them there, proudly. There’s even photos of him at pride parades, in rooms with flags on the walls… that sort of thing.”

“Ooh…”

“You get it? So, that kind of stuff is why I imagine he’d be fine with it – because he seems to live and breathe that stuff.” He finishes making his eggs and starts eating them right off the pan.

“Yeah, I’ve met people like that…”

“But that’s not all. Besides that, he’s got some very scathing criticism of the government and laws and stuff – like it’s stuff that he’s read up on, and it’s not even really his major, I think. And that’s a face that he doesn’t show to the family, but that’s definitely there, it seems. It’s this…” He smiles gently. “The poor kid doesn’t even realize when people mess with him in comments and stuff. It’s like… he’s just full of passion. There’s so much passion there, for a better world, and he just needs someone that can help guide that passion. I wish I could help.”

Something about this exchange feels… familiar to me. “Hey, Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“You see us all as little brothers, don’t you?”

He stares at me for a few seconds. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s just – the warmth you use when talking about your little brother, and the way you talk about him, it reminds me of… the way you talk about all of us. About the way you talk about me at least, from what I’ve seen. It’s less passion for change and more stuff about art, or about video games, or about literature, or the things we like to do in our free time… but every time you talk about one of us to someone else, you talk the same way. And it just makes me think – you see us all as little brothers, don’t you?”

Slowly, he takes a deep breath, still looking at me, caught off guard by the question. “I… I guess I do.” He finishes his eggs and sets the pan down, crossing his arms and looking down. “I hadn’t thought about it in those terms, but… I do. Heh.” A warm smile spreads across his face as this realization dawns upon him. I can’t help smiling, looking at it as well.

Then, the smile fades. “Huh?”

“It’s too much, isn’t it?”

“Wh-what do you mean, Josh?”

“You’re all grown adults and not related to me at all. I probably have no business talking about all of you like that – like you were my little brothers, like that. I’ll try to dial back on it.”

“Wait, no, that’s not what I meant! It’s endearing, Josh.”

He looks at me for a few seconds, like he’s carefully weighing whether I’m being honest or not. I know I am, and I can only hope he sees that. “…alright.” I can’t tell if he accepted it, or if he’s thinking something else entirely. “I’ll just… I’m probably overthinking things. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright…” I chuckle. “You could always… stop seeing me as a little brother and see me as something else, you know?”

His eyes dart to me, and he looks at me for a few moments. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Fuck. That’s quite the thing I just said. “I don’t get it.”

 _You could see me as something more,_ I want to say. “No, forget about it. I just blurted out something without thinking it all the way through.

“Alright.” And I guess that’s the end of that. He sniffles, scratching his nose. “Urgh… I have a headache today again, and I woke up with a bloody nose. It was all dried blood. I hope it isn’t anything bad.”

Right. Last night. Joshua grabs more painkillers from the counter, like yesterday, and swallows the pills dry. “Actually, I know what it was.”

“…huh? How?”

“It’s… the sleepwalking. Last night, you got up and just slammed your face into a wall.”

He blinks a couple of times and sighs in frustration. “Did I? I probably should get it checked, then. If I’m getting up in the middle of the night and hurting myself like that, I probably should have a doctor take a look at what’s causing it, just so it doesn’t escalate into something worse.”

I bite my tongue a bit. “There’s more, actually.”

“Yeah?”

And suddenly, I wonder how much I should reveal, but if we’re at it… “You were… muttering the name again. Andrea.”

“My grandmother?”

“I’m—not sure if it’s your grandmother or not, because of what you did. You, uh, you pulled your underwear down and started… humping the wall, blood running down your face and all. Pretty violently, too. And you were still saying something under your breath, like… I just recognized the Spanish word for whore there.”

And he just stares at me. The silence is eternal, as he looks on, slack-jawed. Finally, he speaks. “ _I’m sorry?_ ”

“I’m not lying to you, Josh.”

“No, you have no reason to lie, so I believe you, but… _what?_ ” He looks completely baffled. I’d be confused too, if I was told I was doing that. “And you’re… _sure_ that I was saying that name?”

“Yeah.”

“Wh—that’s my grandmother. That is literally the only person I know by that name. What the _fuck?_ ”

Maybe I went too far. “Hey, don’t worry, sometimes… sometimes people do weird and nonsensical stuff in dreams, Josh.” But I don’t believe it. I do believe something weird is going on.

“No, this isn’t _weird stuff in dreams_ , you’re telling me I slammed into a wall, started fucking it and talking dirty to it in Spanish, and saying my grandmother’s name. That is…” He doesn’t believe what I said either. “That’s a lot. That’s too much. I should… really consult a doctor.”

Actually, probably he should. “I’m sorry that this is the way you find out about this stuff.”

“Well, better this than accidentally doing it in front of someone else, huh? God, what…?” He rubs his face. “This is all… well, I guess worrying about this stuff isn’t going to do me any good. I’m consulting a doctor and that’s that.”

“Yeah, that seems like the best course of action.”

“Yeah.” Still looking a bit disturbed, he starts brewing some coffee. “The wall…?”

I feel I should try to take his mind off matters some, in some way. As I see him pouring himself a cup of coffee, I have an idea. He takes a sip, no sweetener or anything, and… “Hey, Josh.”

“Yeah?”

“You always drink your coffee black, right?”

“Yeah.” His tension seems to go down a bit.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been able to stomach coffee like that.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Right. You always drink your coffee so diluted it can hardly be called coffee anymore.”

“Hey, rude.”

He chuckles. “Listen. If less than fifty percent of the volume content of your container is coffee, I don’t think you should get to call the beverage coffee anymore. I’ve seen just how much milk and sugar you put in yours. You might as well be eating the sugar straight out of the jar with your hands, with what you do.” Alright, he’s fully relaxed now.

He didn’t need to go and jab at my coffee habits like that, but he’s relaxed at least. “But it tastes good!”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” He snorts, shaking his head and takes another sip of his coffee. “Sugary sludge mess that you people like…”

“It’s not my fault you prefer your stuff so bitter!”

“I have some very strong opinions on coffee, you know?” He smirks. “Grown-ups can handle their coffee dark, James.”

“Oh, is that a _challenge?_ ”

He arches an eyebrow, approaching me. “It can be if you want it to be.” He puts his coffee cup down in front of me. “See how much of it you can down. Go on.”

I grab the cup by the handle. “Fine.” I… can’t help noticing the part where his lips met the cup. It’s slightly damp, and there’s a droplet of coffee risking dripping down that side. My eyes dart to him for a split second as I lick it up, and I hope he doesn’t realize what I’m doing – but from the way he just nods at me and instructs me to keep drinking, maybe he didn’t. Or maybe he doesn’t mind. I’m overthinking this. I bring the cup to my lips, and I feel maybe it won’t be too bad – but this even smells bitter. I look down at it, and a pit of pure liquid darkness stares back at me. I can even see my reflection on its surface. I tilt the cup back, and it meets my lips. I take a big gulp, holding it in my mouth, and set the cup down.

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh my God.

How the hell does Joshua drink this stuff. My face must be absolutely hilarious right now, if the growing smile on his lips is any indication. “Mm…” I can’t speak. It’s so bitter. It’s so bitter and hot and it’s such an overbearing presence and flavor in my mouth. How can you even get used to this in the first place, much less enjoy it? Looking at Joshua, and with tears in the corners of my eyes, I gulp it down… and start coughing. And then, he starts laughing – this hearty, full-bodied laughter. “Ugh…” I wash the taste down with a sip of my orange juice.

“I knew it was coming, but I wanted to do nothing to stop it. I’m sorry.” Still, he’s laughing as he says that.

“That’s evil, but… my own hubris was my downfall. Icarus flying too close to the sun and all that.”

“But with not being able to handle black coffee?”

“But with not being able to handle black coffee.” I cringe a bit, still needing to wash out the flavor. Joshua just chuckles, grabs the mug, and downs it all in one gulp, without hesitation. When I finish my breakfast, he takes my dishes and washes them, putting them to dry.

I get up. “Thanks for the food. I’m gonna go get ready now.”

“For what?”

“Didn’t I tell you? I’m meeting with Craig today.”

Joshua freezes. “Huh? Today?”

“Yeah, for lunch. I’m…”

He sighs, turning to face me. “Are you _sure_ you want to do this?”

“I’m… no, actually. But at the same time, I feel like if I don’t do this, the doubt is going to eat away at me for the rest of my days, you know? I don’t want to make up, anyways, I’m just hoping I can get an apology out of him for the way he treated me all those years ago.”

He crosses his arms. “Right.” Taking a deep breath, he scratches his cheek. “I guess in that case it’s ultimately inoffensive. And you’re meeting in a public place as well, so nothing bad could happen. But I just… I still don’t feel you should do this.”

“And I’m grateful that you want to take care of me like this, but it’s something I want to do, Josh. It’s going to be alright, yeah?”

He slowly nods. “Alright.” And he turns back to the sink. “Use the bathroom at the top of the stairs to shower, and get ready, or do… whatever you need to do.”

“Thanks.”

I can tell that the idea bothers him some, but my mind is set on this matter, and Craig already said yes, anyways. I go up and take a quick shower, getting ready. Nothing fancy for my outfit – I’m not seeking to impress him. Some petty side of me wants to wear a nice shirt, just to show him how nicely I can clean up while being completely outside his grasp, but I decide against it. I spend some time on my phone until the time to leave comes, and I go down the stairs.

The house is really silent. I don’t know where Joshua is, but I also haven’t heard the door open, so he’s got to be in here still. Then again, I’m not the one with the incredible senses. I check that I have everything on me and go to the door, pulling out the keys Joshua gave me—

“Wait.” A door closes behind me and Joshua calls to me from the other side of the house. He comes to me, from the darkness. He’s fully dressed now. I can’t remember him showering, but he looks clean and well groomed. “Before you go, just, uh…”

“Yeah?”

I turn to face him as he pulls out his wallet and takes out some notes. “For your food. I’m still treating you to lunch, even if you go out.”

“Oh…” I take the money. “Thank you, Josh. Really.”

“Just don’t buy anything for him.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t plan to do that anyways. Just for me.” I nod.

“And…”

I look up at him. He looks worried sick. He really doesn’t want me to go, and I’m sure that if he had any say in the matter, he would come along, just to make sure I’m safe, but… I’m way too headstrong, and I want to talk to Craig directly, without Joshua there to protect me. He is good at cutting Craig off completely. Too good. I need to have this conversation.

“I’m going to be alright, Josh. I can message you every now and then if it makes you feel better about this whole thing, alright?”

He starts nodding slowly, and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Listen…” But he trails off, and doesn’t say anything else, just looking at me with his mouth slightly agape.

I go in and hug him. “It’s alright.” He surrounds me in his arms, and squeezes me tight against his body. “I’m going to be alright. Promise.”

“…alright.” And he lets go. “But just… message me if something is up, will you?”

“I will.”

“Alright.” He crosses his arms, but it looks more like he’s hugging himself, frowning, still not approving of this. “Alright. I can’t stop you. I just… hope that it goes well, and that you get what you’re looking for.” He forces a smile.

“Thank you, Josh. See you later.” I smile at him. I can almost feel how much his smile slips when I turn around and open the door, the cold morning air hitting me. I step out and close the door behind me, and I see Joshua step towards it – almost like he wants to follow. Still, I need to do this alone.

I promised him I’d be fine.


	12. Thursday's Bleeding Wounds (Part 2)

Arriving at the diner on foot shouldn’t be much of an ordeal, really. Even if I’m getting used to getting around in Joshua’s car, it’s not like it’s terribly far either – it should be… what, fifteen minutes of walking? Twenty?

As I start walking and I realize I don’t have an answer, I realize I’ve never actually _walked_ from Joshua’s house all the way to the diner, or the commercial area of the town in general. Every time I’ve been here – whether it was because I came on my own, or because we were all hanging out at his house – he always drove us wherever we needed to go, even if it was individual destinations, or even if it was just to take some of us home. Huh. That’s interesting.

It’s a nice day out. It’s starting to warm up a bit – in the town’s relative terms, that is, because it’s still pretty cold. Nothing that buttoning my shirt all the way up won’t fix, but it still stings a bit when you breathe in. It’s something you get used to, but Toronto is a bit warmer, so I guess I have to get used to it again.

Still… I can’t help feeling a pit in my stomach, as I walk to the diner, which only grows with each step I take. No, I can’t let it get to me. I’m resolved to confronting Craig for the way he treated me in school. It has to happen. No matter how much Joshua is worried about it, or doesn’t want it to happen, I have to do this. I take a deep breath…

…and notice movement towards my right. As I turn to look, I spot someone walking behind the houses. I’m already past Joshua’s part of the town – I’m close to Tyler’s house. It’s… a woman, in a fuchsia blouse with the sleeves rolled up, jeans, and loafers. A deer, but a different species from me. I actually think I recognize her. She looks like she’s looking for something, hands held together in front of her chest, her face fraught with concern…

“Hello?” I call out to her.

Slowly, she turns to face me, confirming my suspicions – that’s an acquaintance of my parents’. Her name is Anna… something or another, I can’t actually remember her last name. I remember our families bonded when we first came to New Blackden because we were the only cervid families in the town. Not that it’s really a big town or anything, but you’d expect there to be more than just two of them considering the region – specially if one of them isn’t from the town and is actually American.

“Miss Anna?” I take a few steps approaching her, and she gingerly steps towards me as well. I don’t remember her being this short, actually.

“Mm…” She tilts her head a bit, her shoulder length dark brown hair moving to the side as she does. Deep in thought. Her hair looks a bit messy, like she hasn’t brushed it, but I don’t pay it much mind. “Are you… James? Adrienne’s son?”

That’s my mother’s name. “Yes.” I nod.

“Oh…” A smile creeps up her lips. “It’s nice to see you again, James. It’s been a while.”

“It sure has! I’ve been away for school a lot, and only really came back during vacations, but we didn’t meet much.”

“Mm, yeah…” She nods slowly, brown eyes peering at me. I don’t know how to put it, but her gaze looks a bit… empty. Unfocused, maybe. “Didn’t your family move out of town, though?”

“They did. They’re in BC now.” Vancouver, I think, but I don’t remember specifically where they moved – I just know it’s far from here.

“I see. Why are you here, then?”

That question could be loaded. “Oh, I just came back after graduating – I’m staying with a friend in town for a bit, while I save up money, so I can move out on my own.” A friend…

“Mm… what degree did you get?”

“Drawing and Painting, from OCAD. I’m an art major.”

“Hm… yeah, I always got the impression that you’d be one for the arts, James…”

“Thank you.” At least I hope it’s a compliment. “And I already have a job lined up in Sudbury, curating a gallery, so I’m going to go there for work regularly.”

“I see, I see…”

Not for nothing, this conversation doesn’t just have the regular awkwardness of catching up with someone you don’t see in a while – something feels off here. Somehow, for some reason, miss Anna feels like she is fully _out of it_ while we’re talking, but I can’t explain why. It’s like… even though she’s talking to me, and smiling every now and then, the gaps between me finishing a thought and her reacting, and the way she talks, just feel off.

We stand in silence for a couple of seconds as she nods. “Er, anyways, is there any reason you’re out here? It looked like you were looking for something?”

“Oh, yes… I’ve just been looking for my family.”

Huh?

“Not that anything bad happened, we were just taking a walk through the woods and I think I got lost. I just followed the sounds and got back to the town, but now I’m trying to look for them again.”

“Oh…” Oh, for a second I thought that something worse had happened. “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t think I can help with that.” Though… just getting lost like that and losing sight of your group is weird.

“It’s alright, dear.”

“Where did you see them last? Maybe working backwards from that information you can try and find them again – or just wait for them to come back.”

“Huh…” She tilts her head, lightly scratching her head as she thinks. “Last time I—”

…

A cacophony assaults me. I stagger backwards, as the intensity of the sound makes my ears hurt. Blinking a few times, I see that it continues, with the source right in front of me. Miss Anna. Her lips are moving at an absolutely impossible speed, and it feels like several people are speaking at once as she opens her mouth – at least three of them, all at the same time, saying different things. They’re all her, but… I can’t catch any part of what she’s saying.

She finishes talking, giving me a curious gaze. I just shake my head slightly. “I’m sorry? I don’t think I understand.”

“Um… I meant that—”

And the cacophony starts back up again. I have to resist the instinct to cover my ears. I can’t even try to understand what she’s telling me, but I can make out a few words here and there – “stone”, “cabin”, “street”, “underground”, “lake”, “ram”, “crystal”...

Those words tell me nothing. I cannot make heads nor tails of what she might be trying to tell me, but I’m concerned over why she might be talking about… the underground, or the lake, or crystals, if what she’s saying makes any sense at all. Wait, no, what am I saying? No part of this situation makes any sense – people can’t speak like that, and she seems to not notice anything is wrong. Am I the problem? Am I having a stroke or something? Everything seems normal, except for the pace at which she’s talking to me…

“I… see.” I clear my throat, trying to regain my composure. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can help you.” I don’t know what’s happening, but I don’t want to talk to her anymore. Something feels wrong.

“Oh…” Her ears twitch. They angle up and slowly crane backwards – to listen to something behind her. “Oh… don’t worry. I think I just found them.”

“Huh?”

“I can hear them calling me. My son is calling me – my James.” She smiles at me and waves goodbye. “It was nice catching up with you, James…” And she wanders off, and keeps walking, and she walks into the forest, staggering, lightly bumping her shoulders on the trees… until it grows too thick, and I can’t see her anymore.

What the hell? I’d just imagine that she’s on something, and probably having a very bad trip – and I’d try to help her – if it wasn’t because of what just… happened, when she tried to speak. A lot of voices coming out of her mouth at the same time, tripping over one another, and lips flapping at a speed they shouldn’t – and she seemed to notice nothing wrong with what she was doing. Then, she just waves me goodbye and wanders off, claiming she heard her son’s voice?

Her son is younger than me. I didn’t get to see him a lot, and we didn’t really get along. But… was his name James? And didn’t mom tell me that…

I feel a pair of eyes on me. When I turn to look, I see a bull looking at me – pretty gruff looking, a bit older, arching an eyebrow at me with his arms crossed. I don’t think I’ve seen him before. “Hey. What were you talking about with Anna?”

How do I even answer such a question? “Um, she is a friend of my parents’, and I’ve been gone from this town for a bit, so we were catching up.” I guess that’s accurate enough. “She mentioned she was on a walk with her family through the forest, and she got lost, so she was looking for them… then she said that she heard her son, so she was going to meet up with him and her family.”

I realize she could have just pulled out her phone. We have cell coverage here.

The bull slowly nods… and his face sinks, in an expression laden with disbelief. “Uh… I don’t know if anyone told you. But her son passed away two years ago in an accident. And she divorced her husband shortly after. He moved out of this town.”

Right. That’s what mom told me. “That’s…”

“So I hope you get what I mean. There’s no family she could have been taking a walk with, and no son that she could have heard. I hope you realize that.”

I just step away from the spot where she was standing. The bull looks off into the forest, in the direction Anna disappeared into. “I don’t know… _what_ she is doing out there, but it isn’t meeting with her family. I don’t know what she’s doing or what she’s on.”

I’m really at a loss for words here. “I… see. Is she always like this?”

He keeps looking at the forest. “I wouldn’t be able to tell you. I never meet her. She just lives and works here, alone. She doesn’t come by my bar, so I don’t know what she is like normally.”

A bar. “Okay… what do we do?”

The man scoffs. “I know what I’m _not_ doing – touching any part of this with a ten-foot pole. I am not going to follow her into the woods, and I don’t know if I want to call the cops, since our PD has its hands full with the ongoing kidnappings.”

“I’m sorry, with the what now?”

He looks at me and clicks his teeth. “Don’t worry about it, kid. You don’t fit the profile of the victims, so you should be safe.”

And before I can ask any more questions, he walks off. What… the hell just happened? Every new part of this… _event_ only opened more questions than the ones it answered. Some case with kidnappings, the police being at their wits’ end, Anna’s family being gone and her wandering into the forest, and that… stuff she did with her mouth…

My hand goes to my pocket and reaches for my phone, and I contemplate calling the police to look into this situation, because she might just disappear into the forest… but I let go, as I realize I have no idea how to explain the situation to them, and if what that bull said was true, they wouldn’t be much help in the first place.

I sigh. I hate to leave things like that, but I feel I’m just not going to do anything. I don’t think I can do anything, anyways. I give one last look at the forest before I return to the main road… and I swear I see a pair of shining dots in the darkness. Like eyes, looking at me, like they’re reflecting a flashlight’s light… but it’s the middle of the day. Noon, almost.

Maybe _I_ should see a doctor. I know the water here is a bit funky and takes some getting used to… at least, I hope it’s just that. I shake my head and keep walking…

…

The rest of the journey goes by uneventfully. I arrive at the diner and take a seat at one of the tables, by the window. Craig should be arriving here anytime soon. I get settled in, leaning back on my chair, and check the time on my phone… five minutes. Our agreed upon meeting time is in five minutes. Whew. I didn’t want to get here so late – I like having a bit more of a buffer, but I guess me stopping and talking to Anna took longer than I expected.

As much as that can be called talking.

I start scrolling through my social media – messages first. Stuff looks normal. Joshua is online right now. I remember that he was offline last Sunday, when I checked his contact info, so I guess now he’s at home and online, like usual. No use worrying about that. I check some other social media, and time flies by as I scroll through posts…

My stomach grumbles a bit, and I realize it’s been a bit. Mary walks up to me, holding a notepad and smiling at me, so I set my phone down. “Good afternoon, James!” She greets me in her regular affable voice.

“Good afternoon, miss Mary.”

“I see your boyfriend isn’t here with you today…” She looks around.

Well, there she goes. “Er, no, I came here alone. I’m waiting for someone else.”

“Oh… I see, I see. I’ve heard about this thing you youngsters do… open relationships, was it? I don’t understand it, myself, but it’s something you people do…” She chuckles.

I close my eyes and sigh. My God. “No, it’s… not a date. And I’m not dating Joshua either.” Not that it’s an unappealing idea. “So, please, stop saying that.”

She gasps slightly, in faux-indignation. “Oh, my, but why? You two would make a great couple…” I get that she’s trying to be supportive, but it’s just a bit awkward. “Anyways… Can I take your order, dear?”

I look around. “Hm… I guess the person I’m waiting can order when he arrives.” I can feel a sort of glint in her eye, and I hope it doesn’t mean she’s thinking it’s a date again. “I guess I’m just having a tuna melt and a milkshake, please. Oh, and, can I pay now?”

“A melt…” She’s slowly jotting down the order. “Yes, yes, dear… give me the money and I’ll bring you the change…”

I hand her the note Joshua gave me and she walks off slowly, bringing the order to the kitchen. A tuna melt is what I’d have ordered last night if I hadn’t also had tuna for lunch. Joshua’s words echo in my mind – it’s not actually dangerous to eat a lot of tuna… but it just felt wrong.

I check the time on my phone… that’s ten minutes past our meeting time. Hm.

My food arrives shortly after, along with my change. I look at my sandwich – that’s a full meal in front of me. I idly tap my fingernails against the table, resting my head on my hand, looking around… I’m wondering if Craig decided to just bail on me. Scummy. But I wouldn’t really be surprised.

Not that I have much of a reason to really say that in the first place. I just don’t like the guy. I check the time again… now it’s been fifteen minutes since our meeting time. Hmm…

I just start eating. I was going to wait until he arrived – to at least show him that small bit of grace – but fuck it, if he doesn’t want to be here on time, I’m not going to starve myself for his sake. The sandwich is delicious, and the milkshake really hits the spot. Since I’m not waiting for anyone, I’m just going to enjoy the meal – sandwich in one hand, scrolling through art with the other, the occasional sip of the shake… it’s pretty comfy.

I’m finished before long. I lean back… I’m full. I check the time… it’s a half hour past our meeting time… really? He definitely bailed on me. Ugh. Well, at least I got a good meal out of it. I guess I’m just going to leave, bid Mary farewell, and get back to Joshua’s house, to tell him that nothing happened because the guy chickened out. So much for that, I guess. I wipe my hands down with some napkins, get up—

“Hi! Hi! Sorry I’m late!” In walks Craig, waving at me. I don’t try to mask my disappointment at his sudden appearance. I was almost free, and here he is, dressed in a similar getup of a jacket and sweatpants, like the one that he had on yesterday. I wonder if it’s the same one. Well… I guess it’s my fault, since I’m the one that asked him to come. I sit back down, taking a deep breath – wow, the food isn’t really going down much. He approaches the table, seeing my empty plate and glass. “Aw…” He grunts lightly. “You started eating without me?”

Excuse me? “Check the time, Craig.” He pulls the sleeve of his jacket back and looks at his wristwatch.

“Uh… half past one?”

“Yes.”

He looks at me a few seconds. “What about it?”

Really? “We agreed to meet up at one, Craig. You’re half an hour late.”

“Oh, real sorry, dude…” He chuckles, scratching the back of his head. “But I can’t believe you didn’t wait for me! That’s what friends do, you know?”

“…yes. That’s what friends do. We’re not friends.”

He grimaces slightly. It seems like my words got to him… and I don’t mind.

“Just sit down.”

“Alright.” He snorts, taking the seat opposite of me. “Uh, excuse me!” He waves at a waitress, to take his order. “Can I have the biggest burger you have and a shake?”

Well, alright. I guess he is _that_ kind of sports coach. He definitely looks like a coach – he has the outfit and mannerisms – but the question remained of whether he was one of the fit ones, or one of the ones that just gives orders and doesn’t take care of himself. I guess the size of the belly should have been my first hint he was the latter. But also, I don’t actually know what he’s like on the job… but at the same time I don’t care. I don’t _have_ to make a fair character assessment.

The waitress leaves with his order. “Uh, you already pay for your stuff?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm…” He nods slowly. “Anyways, since you asked to meet up here—”

Before he can answer, a different waitress comes back… with his order. That was almost immediate. They must have had that ready to go. His eyes light up as he sees the size of the hamburger in front of him… I don’t know if it’s the fact that he’s the one that ordered it, but it looks gross. I know, rationally, it’s no different from the one Joshua ordered last night, but… ugh.

Of course, he grabs it in delight and takes a big bite out of it. Big mouth he’s got – not that it surprises me. “Mm!” He arches an eyebrow at me, setting his burger down. “You want something to drink?”

“…what do you mean? I had a milkshake with my food already. I don’t really want anything, thank you.”

“No, you don’t get me. You want… _something to drink?_ ” What is he going on about? Before I can wonder any further, he opens his jacket and pulls it open, revealing the glint of a flask tucked into his pants, pressed against his belly.

I sigh. “No. And I don’t think you can drink that here.” I’m pretty sure, at least – it’s a family establishment for the most part. I don’t see any signs outside stating you shouldn’t bring alcohol in, but it feels intuitive to think it’s not allowed in here.

He clicks his tongue and frowns lightly. “What are they gonna do, dude, kick me out of here?” He chuckles, taking it out. From the way he’s looking around, for sure he knows it’s wrong, but he still uncaps it and brings it to his mouth. Whatever it is, it smells pungent and strong… I wonder if it’s vodka. He tilts it fully backwards, wrapping his lips around the end, taking a deep swig. He gulps several times. Easily half of the contents of the flask go down his throat. After he’s done, he caps it again, gulps one final time, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smacks his lips and exhales in delight. “Ah, that hits the spot…”

I don’t know what to say to that. I just look at him for a few seconds, blinking as he hides the flask again. “Well, anyways.”

“Yeah!” He clears his throat, grabbing his burger again. “Anyways, you asked to meet here with me.” He already said that. “You just want to reconnect or something? I’d love to, man, it’s been ages since we last talked.”

“It’s been ages for a reason, Craig. I… look.” I rub my face. “Yeah, whatever, let’s catch up a bit.” Maybe I can bait him into trying to give me an apology if I actually engage him. “How… have you been through these years?”

He must notice something is wrong, but he shakes his head and keeps talking. “Niiice. Been doing fine, graduated high school and became a sports and fitness coach!”

“Mm. So you teach people healthy habits and stuff.” And I try not to look at the burger or think of the flask of alcohol.

“Yep. I’m studying some sports science shit, but it’s tough, thought right now I’m working with this foundation that’s got an office in this town. Ever heard of the Sunrise Foundation?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“It’s this thing that works with people going through rehabilitation – physical and mental stuff, yeah? For many conditions and stuff.” Huh. That’s… actually pretty nice. “I’m coaching some people on playing soccer and doing some athletic stuff, like running and the like.”

“Hmm.” I pause. “Honestly, when you told me the name, I thought it was a cult.”

He chuckles. “The name really sounds cult-y, doesn’t it? But nah, it’s all sane and healthy, just rehab for people.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“Thanks!”

“Makes sense for the high school jock to go into sports stuff after graduation, too.”

“Heh, I guess it does!” He trails off, biting into his burger again. “It’s… been a bit tough since I graduated.”

“Huh? How so?”

“Well, basically none of the universities I applied to took me in, yeah? I considered going into a trade school or something, at least, to not be a dead weight on my parents, until we moved here. The foundation was only starting out back then, and they didn’t ask for a degree or anything – just knowing stuff about sports, for their coaches. So, I got the job, and I’ve been making some cash with them since then.”

I nod slowly. I have to admit, I basically blocked Craig out of my memory and life completely after graduation, so I had no idea this was going on.

“Can’t help feeling I still peaked in high school, but eh, what can you do, yeah?” He snorts. “Just gotta keep moving forward and doing stuff.”

Him feeling he peaked in high school might explain why he looks so unkempt. He really let himself go – which is interesting, considering what he just told me about working in sports. You’d expect more physical fitness to come with that. “I see. That’s right.”

“So, how about you? How have you been holding up since graduation?”

“Great.” _Ever since I stopped having to look at you,_ I almost say. “My family moved up here because my father found a job in the town’s little clinic that had a good pay, and I spent a sabbatical year just getting my bearings. Afterwards I enrolled in art school, and I finished my studies about a month ago. I have a degree now.”

Though, saying that out loud almost feels like showing off or trying to humiliate him. I get that time dulls all feelings, but I almost feel bad. He just arches an eyebrow, impressed. “Ohhh! Someone’s been succeeding in life!”

“I guess. I have a job lined up in Sudbury, and I’m staying here until I save up enough money to move there.”

“Right, since rent here is cheaper than in the city, no? Unless you live with your parents…”

“I don’t. They moved out, went to BC. Good time as any to leave the nest, I suppose.”

“Ohhh… I get that. I’m living by myself as well now.”

“Didn’t you say you began working because you didn’t want to be a dead weight on your parents?”

He grimaces. “I guess? But after I got a job and they split up, they moved different places, and I had to stay here.”

I didn’t know his parents had split up and I don’t think I want any more details. Rumor in school was that he had a tough family life, which was used to explain his shitty temper and attitude. Of course, our high school did nothing about it, because keeping the student athlete happy was more important. “Right. That makes sense.”

“Yeah…” He keeps eating.

I cross my arms and lean back. “I was pretty shocked to see you here. I thought I’d left everyone behind when I moved out of America.”

He smiles. “Well, you ain’t getting rid of me that easily!” As I close my eyes, I can almost feel him shrinking in his seat a bit. “Probs shouldn’t have said that…”

“Mm.” I shake my head. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re following me around.”

He almost chokes on his food.

“Like, I move here, and after some time I find you. I move to upstate New York, and when I start high school, you’re there as well. And before that there’s…” I blink a couple of times. “…never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

He stares at me a bit. “Er… yeah, but I swear I’m not following you. It’s a bunch of coincidences, yeah? Not like I could follow you even if I tried – you blocked me on all social media after you graduated, haha…”

I arch an eyebrow. “You checked?”

“Ah, it’s like… another dude in our team told me he’d been blocked, so I went to check, and you’d blocked me as well!”

It’s true that I blocked a lot of people once I graduated and didn’t have to deal with them again. “Wonder why that is.”

He clears his throat and looks around, uneasy, like he’s trying to find another topic of conversation. “So, anyways, about that dude you were with last night…”

“Joshua?”

“His name’s Joshua? He didn’t seem to be… ah, guess it doesn’t matter.” I’m wondering if he wanted to make a comment about Joshua not being from around here. Didn’t he say that they’d hooked up? How did he not know the name? “So, when did you two start dating?”

I sigh and lean forward on the table, wondering how I should answer that. On one hand, I could keep up the lie Joshua told about us dating, to keep things consistent… but on the other hand, I feel being honest about this stuff is for the best. “We aren’t.”

“…huh?”

“He just said that to get you out of my hair last night.” I close my eyes. “I’m not making that up. When I asked him why he lied like that, he said it was because he immediately felt how viscerally uncomfortable I felt being around you, and he just… leapt to protect, I guess.”

“Oh…” He deflates slightly. “Well… you two would make a cute couple, then! I mean, the way you were looking at each other after I gave you my number and left…”

…I’m sorry? Did he stare at us from a distance or something?

“Uh, never mind. If you’re not dating, you’re not dating and that’s that, I suppose.” Could change that. “Are you staying alone here?”

“No. I’m staying with a friend.”

“With him?”

“Yes.”

“Mmm…” He nods slowly. “Are you _sure_ you’re not dating?”

“…what?”

“Well, you were rubbing elbows hard, and getting along great, and he jumped to defend you, and you’re living together… I dunno man, just spitballing here, but it feels like there’s more stuff going on there – on you and on him both.”

It’s… not like he’s wrong. At least on my end. But he also has no right to speculate about this stuff like that, after meeting me for the first time in forever. “Sometimes people can just exist around each other and get along well without it having to be romantic. It’s called having friends. You should try it sometime. And what business do you have questioning the dynamics I have with my friends? You and I have had no _dynamics_ of any kind in years – you don’t get to do that.”

He grimaces and seems to shrink a bit. “Sorry, man, shouldn’t have done that.”

I just grumble and sigh. “At any rate, he told me something pretty interesting.”

“Huh?”

“So you’re gay now?”

He pauses a bit. “Yeah? How’d he know that?”

… why is he asking me this? “He said he hooked up with you before, right after I told him about the kind of bullying you put me through in school. He found it curious. I find it curious as well.”

“The… I see.” He takes a sip of his drink. “I can’t remember ever meeting with that guy, so I don’t know where he got that from.”

Huh? Joshua wouldn’t lie about something like that, and I feel his appearance is striking enough that a hookup would remember him.

“Though, yeah, I’m gay… though I might have met him before and just forgot. Sorry. Memory isn’t what it used to be.” I don’t know if I’d like to believe him.

“How much do you get around that you’d forget someone that looks like him?”

He’s slightly taken aback. “A… fair bit? If you hang around sports people and open dating apps, you get a lot of matches.”

“I see.” Now I’m wondering if the comment I made makes it seem like I’m very invested in Joshua’s appearance. Fuck.

“Uh… are you sure that—”

I’m not letting him complete that idea. “Anyways, I’m asking because I found it… interesting, given the history we have. The high school stuff.”

“The…” He looks at me blankly for a few moments.

“…really?”

Realization dawns on his face, and I’m glad it does, before I have to slap some sense into him. “Oh!”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“Yeah…” He looks away, uncomfortable. “Look, I… did some self-reflection after that and it’s what led me to realize I’m gay, yeah? I was young and dumb, and suppressed a lot of feelings like that, in unhealthy ways, which manifested as… yeah.”

Can’t he even bring himself to say it out loud? “Wow, what therapist taught you that trick?”

“What do you mean?”

“The whole spiel about suppressing feelings and lashing out. Because I doubt _you_ were the one that formed that thought all by yourself.” I grumble into my hand, shaking my head. “Continue.”

“Uh, right… well, there was another thing.”

“Yes.”

“So, I targeted _you_ specifically with my bullying a lot, right? There’s a reason for that.”

I really hope he’s not taking this where I think he’s taking it.

“After thinking it over, the reason I even latched onto you so hard and hated every part of the stuff you did, even if I didn’t know you were gay – but I guess I was onto something – was like… all the little soft mannerisms, the soft spoken-ness, the gentle gaze, that I just felt were super gay? I realized I was actually attracted to them, and I realized this fixation – almost obsession I had on you…”

“Don’t.” It’s soft. Almost like I’m saying it to myself. He doesn’t hear it.

“…is because I actually had feelings for you.” And his expression softens a lot, looking at me with a look that’s equal parts pleading and understanding. “And it took a lot of work to realize that about myself.”

And I’m having none of it. I groan, leaning forward on the table, covering my face in my hands.

“Wait, wait, don’t worry, I’m over it! I’m not proposing anything to you or someth—”

“And if you were, I’d just reject it anyways, so don’t worry!” I lean back on my chair, frustrated. “Just… _really?_ You’re hitting me with the “I bullied you because I had feelings for you” stuff?”

“I-I mean, it’s true!”

“I don’t give a shit whether it’s true or not!” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can almost feel people staring. “Look… it’s just hard to believe the reason you made my life absolute hell all three years of high school was that you developed a crush on me or something like that.”

“Oh, sorry, I guess it’s a pretty weird to think about, huh? Hehe.” What right do you have to laugh. “But… yeah. I realized that was the reason, and once I accepted that about myself, a lot of the anger just… clicked. And I felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders, yeah? I just—well, this must be weird for you. Maybe even, like, flattering?”

“Very insulting, actually.”

“Oh…”

“Just… thinking that the reason I had to go through all that growing up is that you were some loser that couldn’t admit things to himself.”

He frowns a little. “Hey, buddy, why are you being so hostile to me?”

Oh, he’s _in_ for it now. “What… do you _mean_ why am I being so hostile?” I drop my voice a little, leaning forward, staring directly into his eyes. “I just found out that the reason I received all that mistreatment growing up – all the hostility – was all because you were doing moony eyes at me and didn’t want to admit it. How am I supposed to feel about that besides insulted? To think that I spent three years in hell every time we shared a class or you decided to seek me out with your damn friends, all because you didn’t want to confront yourself?”

“Well… I guess it’s pretty shocking, huh? Must be a pretty big shock for you?” He’s looking around like he doesn’t know what I want him to do. I hope he knows.

“Well…?”

He just stares at me.

“That’s it?”

“I… I have no idea what you want of me, bud.”

I clench my hands into fists. “Are you for real, now? You go and give me some sob story about how you actually loved me all along, and that’s why I dealt with hell, and… and I don’t even get an _apology?_ ”

Well, I laid it out plainly for him. But… I don’t feel like I’m done.

“I’m not shocked that the jock went into sports after high school was over – you were real strong in high school, and they didn’t do anything about you because you were the star player of their team. I still remember the being slammed into lockers – not _inside_ lockers but _into_ them, denting the surface – and the bruises, and the chipped antlers, and all the horrible things you’d come up with to say to me all the time. It got so bad that people stopped seeing it as amusing and they began to side with me, and that did not stop you at all – if anything, you redoubled your efforts, surrounded by your little jock friends and enkindled by them, and you were impossible until we graduated and I didn’t have to look at your face anymore. Do you even remember what you wrote on my yearbook when you snatched it out of my hands to sign? When I specifically didn’t want to give it to you? Do you… remember any part of this at all?”

He keeps looking at me blankly. Softly, he speaks, in a whisper, almost in shock. “…I don’t.”

And that just gets me angrier. “You… don’t. All the beatings, and the mistreatment, and the way for my first year of schooling I cried myself to sleep because I didn’t know why you were doing it until I went numb – this weight I bear, that got me to toughen up, and building myself up like this took a _lot_ of damn effort – and you don’t remember any of it. You get to wake up each morning without thinking about the trauma you have hanging over your head. Just…”

There’s people looking at us now, and Craig’s nervousness grows by the second.

“Do you at least remember what you did _before_ that? Because you loved doing it. When we were kids, and you made my life hell as well. You remember our home, in the south? You acted like you didn’t know me at all, when we met again in high school, but my heart sank when I saw your name in the list of students – because I _did_ remember, and I felt you must have remembered. I was hoping that you’d have changed and grown in all that time, and then you decided to call me horrible names and pick on me, and it only got worse as time went on, and—and nobody did _anything_ to stop you. Now I don’t even know if you were aware in the first place – or if you even cared. But you did a damn good job of breaking me the first time around. Do you even know how badly you must treat a _child_ for them to consider killing themselves? Because I did. And if it wasn’t because my parents, in our ass-backwards southern town, unlike all of our hick neighbors, actually kept their guns locked up well, I might just have done it. If it wasn’t because of the… t-the… tree…” I bite my lip and look away. I’m not revisiting that part. “You’ve… done plenty. And now that we meet again, all I’m asking for is an apology. Just—you honestly looking in yourself and at least regretting what you did. But I doubt I’m reconnecting with you. You’re not a presence I want in my life, after the hell you’ve put me through. I just want the truth out of you.”

The restaurant is dead silent now. My voice has been steadily rising as I rambled on, and now almost everyone is looking at me. Some people are looking directly at the table, some are averting their gaze. I don’t care. I’m focusing only on Craig, and mentally reliving all the pain I’ve lived because of him. The way he’s treated me his whole life, and the way nobody ever did anything to stop him. Not my classmates. Not the teachers. Not the school staff. Not our other friends, back when we were kids and I tried to get into his good graces, before he seemingly forgot. Nobody.

“I…” He clears his throat. “I’d forgotten about the stuff that happened when we were kids. And I also didn’t remember in high school – all that stuff I did was done… independently. You were just some new, delicate, dainty kid that—no, I probably shouldn’t say that. I… did horrible things to you. Growing up. When we were kids—God, I’d forgotten about that… and when we were in high school. But…” He fidgets. “It’s been a while since we last met. Years now, and I’m sure you’ve been relieved that you haven’t had to see me in that time, and I understand why… but I’m a different person now. I’ve worked on my stuff, I’ve improved – hell, I even took anger management classes, so if you could, like… give me a second chance?”

I grit my teeth. “…and that’s it? I don’t get an apology?”

He leans back, humming and awkwardly shifting in his chair. “Well, it’s like… it’s been a long time, buddy. I’ve already forgotten most of this stuff – because like I told you, my memory isn’t what it used to be – and it’s like… can’t you just forget too? Shouldn’t we just let bygones be bygones and move forward?”

…

**_Don’t._ **

I’m…

**_Leave._ **

I hope my face is plain with disbelief, because I want him to know just how much I’m not having what he’s saying. I can’t… believe that he would actually just say something like that – and I can’t believe he’d take on this pitiful tone when saying it to me. I get up. “You haven’t changed. I don’t buy for a moment that you have changed. If you’d actually changed at all, you would find it in yourself to act like an adult and own up to your mistakes, but you don’t, because you haven’t actually matured at all. You didn’t grow up between us being kids and high school, and you didn’t grow up between high school and now. And that’s what’s happening now – I’m still talking to someone that is, mentally, a child. That’s why you met a dead end and peaked in high school. That’s why your career is stagnated and you stopped being a dead weight on your parents the moment you moved out. You’re a huge manbaby, and I’m glad that you’re at such a dead end in life, because you get what you deserve. And I…” I sigh. “I can’t believe I actually wasted my fucking time coming here, thinking you were capable of growth like a normal person.”

I turn to leave to the bathroom. “ _Hey._ ” That’s his voice. He’s calling to me in the same damn commandeering, authoritarian tone he had in high school when he wanted to call my attention, to do or say something horrible to me. But I’m immune to it now. I’m above him, and he can no longer do anything to me.

I enter the bathroom and lock the door behind me. I go to the sink and wash my hands, splashing my face with water. I look to the side, realizing that there’s no paper towels or hand dryer, so I’ll just have to wait until the fur on them dries. Great. I lean forward on the sink, looking at my reflection in the mirror…

…I look so tired. It fits, because I am incredibly tired, after all of that. My eyes are half-lidded, my cheeks are sunken, my jaw is clenched, my brow is furrowed, and I didn’t realize all of that was happening. And, while looking at my reflection, I just…

…the tears start flowing. I feel… so stupid. I feel incredibly stupid, after agreeing to meet with this fucker again. He hasn’t grown at all and I can’t buy that he actually regrets anything, and I just wasted an afternoon on this when I could have been doing literally anything else. It was a mistake. It was all a mistake.

I hug myself and, with my back to the wall, I slowly descend until I’m sitting on the floor. I clench my eyes shut, and I can just feel my tears run down my cheeks and land on my hands, warm. I take in a sharp breath and grit my teeth, feeling myself want to shudder and sob loudly, but… I can’t. Not in public. Not like this. Not around him. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of hearing me like this. Never again. Still, I… wish I could cry into someone. I wish that… someone could come hug me, and that I could sink into them, burying my face into their body.

I wish it was Joshua. I wish he could come here, and squeeze me tight, and take me away from everything. I wish. I wish.

I wish.

…

My phone vibrates in my pocket as my ringtone plays. I’m getting a call. I sniffle, wiping tears with the sleeves of my shirt against my cheeks, and pull out my phone.

It’s Joshua. He’s calling me. I don’t know if I should pick it up, because I also don’t want him to hear me like this, but at the same time I feel me not answering will lead him to conclude the worst…

…

I pick it up and press the phone against my ear. Before I can say anything, his voice comes in from the other end. “Hello? Hi?” That familiar baritone. “Okay, you finally picked up, thank God… uh, this might be a bit awkward, but I decided to call because you weren’t answering any of my messages.” Messages? “Just… checking up on you, yeah?” A pause. “This is so stupid… I bet you’re fine and I’ve been worrying myself sick over nothing. I’m sorry. Just… how are you?”

“H-hi… I’m fine, Josh, don’t worry…” My voice trembles a bit towards the end there, and I bite my tongue. Shit. I hope he didn’t pick up on that.

A pause. “…James?”

He did. “I’m alright, Josh, it’s nothing.” My voice trembles again.

Pure silence on the other end of the line.

“Josh? Joshua? Are you still there? Hi?” I wonder what he’s thinking at this moment… and I hope I didn’t worry him, but…

A lot of movement on the other end of the line, and something slamming on a table. “Stay where you are. I’m coming. Less than five minutes.”

“Wait—Josh?”

But he’s already cut the call. He sounded so serious. As I look at my phone, I finally spot the notifications for the messages – several of them. I probably didn’t feel them.

‘hey.’  
‘it’s probably nothing but i wanted to check up on you’  
‘see if everything is going alright there you know?’

Some time passes between these messages and the next.

‘hi?’  
A deleted message.  
‘sorry i’m definitely overthinking things, huh? i’ll just leave you alone.’  
‘i hope it goes well and i hope you get what you wanted out of him.’

A few more minutes between messages – a longer pause this time.

‘hello’  
‘i’m sorry i know i said that i was going to leave you alone, but i felt something was wrong’  
‘probably nothing though but just’  
‘can you tell me if everything’s alright over there?’

A couple of minutes. This was only about a minute ago.

‘james?’  
‘james is something wrong?’  
Another deleted message.  
‘james i’m starting to get worried, if something happened please tell me’

And then the messages end. That’s when he called me.

I can only assume that he’s coming to get me now, but that’s not what I wanted. Shit. No. This is bad – he doesn’t need to come, and if he sees me like this…

Knocking on the door to my right. “James?” It’s Craig. Who else would it be. “Hey, we need to talk. You’re right, what I did was wrong, and I came to apologize for—”

“You had your fucking chance and you blew it, loser!” Even as I yell, my voice trembles. I hate this. I hate everything about this.

“James, we need to talk this out. I’m not moving from here until you open that door.”

Shit. This is bad. All of this.


	13. Thursday's Bleeding Wounds (Part 3)

After a few moments I manage to calm myself down – perhaps a product of the raw tension in the air. I can’t really bring myself to cry if I’m afraid for what’s about to happen. Even if Craig isn’t actually _banging_ on the door under any definition of the word, his occasional knocking is still the loudest, most obnoxious sound in the world. He’s still there. What is wrong with him? Why doesn’t he catch the hint and leave?

“James!” His voice comes in loud and clear through the door. It’s so thin. He could probably tear it down if he really wanted to – and I bet he really wants to, the bully.

“What?”

“Come on, man! Please let me fix this!”

I sink my head between my knees and cover it with my hands. “Fuck _off!_ ” Deep breaths. “I don’t want _anything_ to do with you! Go away!”

After a bit, I begin hearing murmuring coming from the other side – other patrons of the diner standing around the door, surely. They must be wondering what’s going on. Onlookers. I wonder… should I try asking for help through the door? Or maybe that’d just make things worse…?

Someone mentions that maybe they should call the cops. Craig’s voice pipes up in panic. “N-no! That’s not necessary! I’m, uh, a friend’s in there and he’s—”

“I’m not his friend!” I yell, loud and clear, so the people outside hear. I don’t know how it might even help me, really. I stop myself before I ask someone to call the police – that would most definitely make things worse, and it’d be a headache I don’t want right now. It’d also be a headache for Joshua, since I’m living with him, probably…

Joshua… he’s coming here, right? I wonder how that’s going to go over… I hope nothing bad happens when he arrives.

Knocking again, but this time it’s like a palm against the door, slamming. “James, please!”

“Eat shit!”

I can’t keep doing this. The murmuring grows more heated. Even if I’m not out there, I can feel the burning eyes of the crowd on the door regardless – eyes that would be on me if I was out there. God, how did it go so wrong? Maybe I should just get up, open the door and confront him… maybe the crowd would side with me.

…

The crowd goes silent, and I hear a car harshly screech to a halt outside. A door opens and loudly slams closed, followed by angry stomping in my direction. Heavy. Boot-clad footsteps. That has to be Joshua.

Craig’s voice again. “Hey! You’re the boyfriend, right!?” He sounds desperate, almost… and I almost relish in his desperation. “Look, I said something wrong, I think, and James locked himself in this bathroom.” He’s stammering hard, trying to get every single word he can out, but the stomping continues, unrelenting. “So if you could please help me, just to—”

Craig stops. A strange sound leaves his body, like he was forced into silence. I recognize it. Choking. A gross, gurgling sound, that I only get to process for a split second. A louder, tougher slam against the door, strong enough that it makes the whole frame vibrate. Gasps and hushed murmurs around, as the choking sound continues. The amount of pressure against the door increases – I can almost hear the wood creaking. There’s a lot happening.

And then, Joshua’s voice. Cold. Colder than I’ve ever heard him – a low, menacing growl. I didn’t know he could even sound like this. I didn’t know. “Show your **fucking** face around him, _ever again,_ and trust and believe that I **will** shatter every last one of your teeth upon the curb.” Absolutely furious – full of this sense of tranquil fury, only barely contained. “Am. I. _Understood._ ”

Before I hear any response, the pressure on the door stops. A split moment afterwards, gasping and yelping from the crowd, followed by a loud crash – wood and metal bent, and breaking glass. Heavy, labored breathing from Craig, as only now he can breathe. “S-s-shit…!” Hasty footsteps, that I can only assume are Craig scrambling to his feet, after whatever it is that Joshua just did to him. God, what _did_ Joshua just do to him? The heavy footsteps ring again, but this time a lighter set of steps starts up as well, very fast… and then they fade. I can only assume that Joshua began chasing him, power-walking, and Craig just fled.

And now, all I hear is heavy breathing, distinctly from Joshua. I can only imagine Craig is gone now. “Fuck…” He mutters under his breath. “Miss Mary.” His voice is a bit calmer than before, but still with this distinct serious tone to it. A gasp in the crowd, that sounds like it’s coming from Mary. God, was she watching all of that unfold? Some shuffling – sounds like paper. “Here. For the table and the broken bottles and glasses.”

Did he seriously break _a whole damn table?_ How—what? Did he just grab Craig and slam him into one of those?

Why do I feel I would have liked to see that?

“U-um…” The old sheep’s voice now.

“I am terribly sorry that happened here in your establishment. That man was harassing a friend, and he… it felt like he was in danger. I talked to him over the phone.” Well, that’s… basically the truth, yeah.

“Oh…” A few moments of silence. “The deer boy, right?”

“Yes.”

“I understand, Joshua…”

A few more moments of silence, followed by him clicking his tongue in what sounds like frustration. “Just take the goddamn money.” I assume she tried to refuse the cash. I wonder how much money he tried to give her…

I don’t hear a response so I imagine he physically pushed the money into her hands. Steps, approaching the door. They stop. “Well, what the _fuck_ are you all looking at?” Him, again, threatening. Directed at the crowd, presumably. More heated murmuring and shuffling, and I hear a lot of people take seats. They must be trying hard not to incur his wrath.

His wrath…

I didn’t know he was capable of such wrath in the first place. Even though I’m on the other side of this door, and even though it’s not directed at me, it’s frightening nonetheless. He’s always been a bit dominant, which I suppose comes with the territory of being the dad friend, but this… is something else. He commands a lot of power in his voice, and I’m assuming in his stance and strength as well, because if he got Craig to leave so quickly, after whatever he just did to him…

The steps approach the door again, and they stop right in front of it. “James?” And his voice is back to soft once more. “Open up.”

…

And then, how stupid this all was comes back to me. I shouldn’t have tried to meet with Craig – this was incredibly dumb on my part. He was right. I didn’t need any of this, and I should have just stayed home with him. He tried to warn me, and now… if he’s fuming at me, I’m going to deserve it. If I open that door and he’s absolutely furious – if he’s still as angry as he was when getting Craig off my back, and giving miss Mary the money for the things he broke, I’m going to deserve it. He was right.

I slowly stand up, and gulp. I know he won’t raise a fist against me, but he can still be incredibly scathing with his words, so I should be prepared for anything. A deep breath. I turn the doorknob and slowly peel the door open…

Instead of an angry visage, I’m met with… concern. Concern and sadness. He looks… worried sick. Like he’s been worrying himself sick from the moment I left the house, to the moment he sent me those messages and I didn’t reply, to the moment he heard me sob over the phone, to the moment he got here. His brow furrows as he sees me – probably as he sees I’m still whole, and I’m alright. “It’s alright. He’s gone.” There’s a few specks of milkshake on his clothes.

And I feel terrible, but for a different reason. And the tears come back. My breath catches in my throat as I look at him, and I imagine what he went through, and the way he came for me – as I think about the way he might catch a charge for whatever it is that he did. I spot some wreckage behind him, but I can’t make it out too well. I think I see some people looking at me – at _us_ , and the scene we’ve caused, even if they’re trying to avert their gaze. Miss Mary is by the counter as well, looking as well.

I don’t think I care anymore.

He lightly opens his arms, inviting me into a hug, and takes a step forward. “Come here… Please…” He’s almost pleading in his look…

I’m not going to leave him hanging. I run to him – he can withstand my weight. I surround him with my arms, and he surrounds me with his. I sob. The tears I felt a few moments ago are back – soaking into his clothing. I bury my face deep in his chest, as he squeezes me tight against his body – that strong, ample, protective body that I wanted to feel against mine mere minutes back. He smells like smoke. This is the tightest he’s hugged me before – one hand around my lower back, the other behind my head – as it feels like he’s trying to curl his whole body around mine.

And it feels right. It feels like home. He feels like home.

And I realize that I love him.

I love him, and _I love him_ , and **_I love him_**. And I realize that I’ve loved him for years now – that the way I’ve felt about him for ages now, all the stuff that I chalked up just to him being a good friend, and me enjoying his presence – has all been love. I’ve wanted this touch for ages. I’ve wanted to have him surrounding me like this. I’ve wanted… more.

“It’s okay…” He softly whispers, pressing his chin against the top of my head.

But… maybe now’s not the best time for that. Not here, not like this.

“Thank you…” My voice is feeble against his body.

“It’s alright.”

I sniffle, peeling myself from his body, and he lets go. I start to wipe some tears from my cheeks, but he stops me, wiping them away with his hands, softly. Gingerly. His hands smell of smoke as well. He’s been smoking. “Thank you, Josh. Really.” I gently smile at him.

He looks down at me, his face still an expression of concern. He closes his eyes, lightly shaking his head and looking around. A few people were looking at us, but they return to their meals as he looks around. He sighs. Gently, he puts a hand on my back. “Let’s just get you out of here.”

“Alright.” I finally feel I’m calming down a bit. This has been hell.

He doesn’t say anything as he leads me out of the diner. He points at the wreckage, signaling for me to avoid it… that table is really damaged and bent. There’s a sandwich spread out on the ground, and a spilled milkshake as well – a tall milkshake glass, or what used to be one at least, as well. Just shards of glass now. I can see footsteps in light pink, of someone that stepped in the milkshake. Probably Craig. Those look like the soles of sneakers. I spot an employee with a mop and a broom walking towards the area…

We both sidestep the mess. Once we’re outside the diner, I realize how late it’s gotten. The sun is starting to set. How long did I even spend in there?

I clear my throat. “I just hope they let you come back after all that, heh…”

“Mm…” He opens the passenger side door of his car, and motions for me to get in. Hardly acknowledging what I said, but that’s alright. I step inside and fasten my seatbelt, and he follows shortly after, on the driver’s side.

The car goes on…

It’s a silent ride home. I just lean back on my seat and close my eyes, breathing steadily. Joshua doesn’t say anything. That’s alright, too. I feel we’ve said enough. The sunset tints my vision orange, through my closed eyes.

The car slows down, stops, starts back up again as we go up a slight inclination, then stops for good, turning off, as the environment darkens. We must be in his garage, and everything is alright.

“…heh.” I take a deep breath. “I know I’ve said this already, but… thank you, Josh.” I gently put my hand on his thigh. “I know what I did was dumb… and I know you warned me not to do it, but I did it anyways… and you didn’t need to, but you came to save me from him, like that, and it was… really. Thank you. For everything.”

He doesn’t say anything. I open my eyes, and turn to look at him, to see him leaning forward… with his head on the steering wheel. Eyes closed, glasses almost falling off his face, breathing slowly. Defeated.

“Uh, Josh?”

He reaches for the keys and presses a button, unlocking all the doors on the car. “Get out when you want to. I’m not going to hold you here. I just… need some… time.”

“Joshua, what’s going on?” Now I’m starting to get worried. I turn towards him.

He takes a deep breath and leans back on his seat, crossing his arms. He pushes his glasses up, looking down, and I can spot his lower lip trembling slightly. “…you’re…”

“Huh?”

He turns to look at me with a pained expression. “You don’t feel it? You can’t tell? It’s…” His voice trembles. “…I failed you.”

What?

He clenches his eyes shut and shakes his head. “I failed you, James. I… I swore my damnedest that I’d protect and help all of you, and I let this happen. You shouldn’t have been locked inside that bathroom crying alone. I should have kept you from going. I should have insisted to come. I—maybe I should have just followed you, and things wouldn’t have gotten so bad, but I didn’t, and it… and it came to this…” He growls and slams his fists on the steering wheel.

“Wh—no, Joshua!” What’s happening? “It’s alright, really! I’m fine!”

“I failed you…” He frowns hard, the corners of his lips stretching out, looking down, and clenches his hands into fists, hard. So hard that I’m afraid his claws are going to dig into his soft paw pads. For a moment, I wonder if that’s what he wants to happen, but I push the thoughts from my head.

“Josh, stop!” I’m worried. I grab his arm—

He just swats my hand away, takes in a sharp breath through his teeth and vigorously shakes his head, looking away. “No… no…”

“Josh, please, it’s not that bad! We’re here, and you got me out of that, it’s fine!” I need to get him to stop torturing himself mentally like this. This is bad. Is this just his breaking point?

He mutters something under his breath that I don’t quite catch.

Then, he does it again, and I do catch it.

“ _…and I had to fail the guy I’ve had feelings for basically since I met him…_ ”

Hold on.

_What?_

“…Joshua?” It’s like hearing that got me out of my concerned state, and now… I just need to know more.

He doesn’t say anything, but his demeanor changes as well – like he realized I heard that.

“Joshua, what was that?”

Slowly, he shakes his head. “…forget I said that, please. Forget I said anything.” His voice is weak and flat…

“…no.” But… we need to discuss it. “Josh, I’m not leaving this car until we talk about what you just said. We… need to discuss that.”

I turn to face him. He stays still. He slowly takes a breath – I can see his chest rising, and I can see the stains of my tears and some milkshake on it – and lets it out. His arms go limp to his sides, and his fists unclench. Another slow breath. He slowly turns his face towards me…

…and as my eyes lay on his, and I see the utterly defeated, sad, almost pathetic look in his eyes, all the things I wanted to say escape me. All the discussion I wanted to have vanishes as well.

And I’m just reminded of… the epiphany I had back in the diner. How, having him surround me like that, I realized I loved him and I’d loved him for years… and now I’m finding out he was the same way about me. And I’m… wondering why he never said anything to me. Or why I didn’t say anything to him. Why I didn’t realize any of this sooner.

His whole face is sad. Wordlessly, he’s pleading to me. His lip trembles, and he can only whisper to me. “…please. Please, forget what I said. Please, never bring it up again. Please…”

I…

I can’t give him that.

Slowly, I bring my hand to his face. I can feel his frown deepening and his breathing picking up as my hand gets closer to him… and as I gently touch his cheek, he flinches – his whole body reacts – and he whimpers, clenching his eyes shut, a lone tear running down his cheek… but, at the same time, after the initial shock passes, it’s like he’s pressing his cheek into my hand, like he wants to sink deeper into the sensation. He wants it. He’s wanted it for ages, and now that he has it… he’s sinking fully into it, almost nuzzling my hand.

I wonder… just _how_ touch-starved is he to react like this? What’s… what has he been doing all these years?

“Josh…” My voice is soft.

He slowly opens his eyes and looks at me. He doesn’t say anything.

I don’t say anything either. I just draw closer to him. His lips part slightly, as do mine. His eyes slowly close, as well as mine…

Our lips lock, finally, and it’s everything I’ve imagined it would be. Our tongues wrestle, gently, against each other, in the silence of the car. I caress his cheek, and I can feel the tension in his body melt away. He tastes… like smoke and alcohol, and cherry-flavored lip balm. His hand lightly touches mine, and then travels across my arm, to rest on the back of my head, pulling me closer towards him – a soft yet firm touch. He takes a deep breath, lightly grunting, as he pushes himself deeper into our kiss. Finally, it’s happening. It’s lovely, and I don’t want it to end.

I don’t know for how long we kiss. Some minutes pass, surely. Some wet smacking, but it’s all gentle. In the end, our lips part, and we look at each other, eyes slowly opening. I gently smile at him, caressing his lower lip, swiping a lock of his mane away from his face…

…he just stares at me. Slowly… he shakes his head. “…no.”

I’m still riding the high of that a bit, so what he said doesn’t hit me for a few moments. “…huh?”

“No… no, I can’t do this.” He grabs his keys, takes them out, unbuckles his seatbelt, and gets out of the car.

“W-wait, what?” Now I’m spurred to action. I unbuckle my seatbelt and leave as well, closing the door behind me, but Joshua has already stormed off deeper into the house.

“I can’t do this. I just can’t do this, James. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“What—why?”

Listening for footsteps, I come to the kitchen. He’s still getting there, and I manage to reach him. Not quick enough. He doesn’t answer my question – he just reaches for the bottle of vodka I spotted yesterday… already open, and at about three quarters of capacity. He was drinking before he came to get me. He… started drinking here, and still got in the car to come get me.

He grabs it again, puts it to his lips, and just starts chugging its contents like they’re water. Like he did last Monday, after the party fiasco, and…

I go up to him and grab it from his hands. I don’t know what takes over me, but I do. Some of the contents spill out, but it’s probably less than a shot… but I look at the bottle and see that it’s at a bit less than half of its capacity already. “Joshua! What…” I don’t even really know what to say to that.

He just slumps backwards to the wall, looking at me through half-lidded eyes. The shame and pain have left him, and now there’s just… it’s hard to explain, actually. But it looks like spite. And yet, I feel it isn’t directed at me… And I guess that’s just a different kind of pain. “…what about what?” He snatches the bottle from my hand in a clean swipe and downs the rest of the contents before I can protest, tearing himself from the wall and slamming the empty bottle on the bar. I’m glad it doesn’t shatter, but that’s the only good part of this situation. “Just… leave me alone.” With a hand on the wall to support himself and breathing heavily, he leaves.

I follow him, but I don’t even know if I should touch him. I don’t know what’s gotten into him right now. “Josh, you should—”

“Should what?” We enter the living room, and he slumps down on a chair. He produces a pack of cigarettes and his lighter from his pockets, lights one and starts smoking. I hadn’t noticed there’s an ashtray on the table right next to the chair. This has to be something he does often. Indoors…

He’s smoking fast. His face is flushed and red – for different reasons than it was a bit before, when we kissed in the car. Or perhaps still for the same reason, since he was drinking before he came to get me. “…how often do you do this?” I stand on the edge of the door frame.

“Do what?”

“All… this. Smoking and drinking by yourself. Or is it just because I was away and you were worried for me?”

His eyes dart to me, and it almost feels like a glare. “It’s…” He snorts. “Your dumb ass was the catalyst. But I do this regularly. Every fucking day, when I’m not working and I don’t have to help anyone’s sorry ass.” He sounds drunk, but he isn’t slurring his words at all. I can’t explain it.

“…how often is that?”

“Often enough.” Another long drag. He’s smoking a lot faster than he’s done it before, when I’ve seen him. “Often enough…”

“And… why?”

“’Cause it helps me cope with existence, yeah?” He lets out a dry snort. “All the fucking bullshit of everything. The job I hate, the money I send everyone, the help I give and get nothing in return. All of it.”

I can’t help feeling there’s something else there, but I’m probably not getting an answer out of him. “But it’s… all that alcohol? And the smoking?” As I finish that sentence he finishes his cigarette, puts it out on the ashtray – hard, and I see the table tilt from the raw force he’s using – and he just… pulls another one out, lights it and continues. “It’s so harmful to you.” Does this count as self-harm? “It’s so self-destructive—”

He throws his head back in frustration and grumbles. “Who gives a shit.” The edges of his words are starting to blur together a bit. He takes a deep drag and spits the smoke out above him in a single puff. Some ash gets on his clothes. I don’t know if he cares. It stinks.

But what do I say to that.

“I do. I care, Josh, and it pains me to see you like this.” I might as well be honest with this – it’s a very harsh departure from how he is… all the time. And I don’t like it.

He looks at me for a few moments… and starts laughing. It’s a low cackle. Dark. “That’s cute.” Another drag. “I almost believed you there. But if none of the others give a single shit about how I’m doing, why would you be any different from them? Tch.” Another drag. “Especially because you’re hardly here in the first place. You spent one year with us wasting your life until you got in school and fucked off to somewhere vastly better. Toronto. The heavenly city, outside the reach of common peasants like me, that have to stick in shit middle of nowhere shitholes like New Blackden.”

I cross my arms and squeeze myself tight.

“…because you told me you loved me, Joshua, and that you’d loved me for several years, and today I realized that I love you too.”

And he just looks at me. And his frown grows deeper. He finishes his cigarette and puts it out, almost slamming his fist into the ashtray, then gets up—but stumbles forward, to the ground. Still, he growls and gets up, supporting himself on a nearby couch, almost falling over it as well. It’s deplorable. But now that he’s looking at me, and we’re roughly eye-level… he looks furious. Furious and in pain. “…you’re lying.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “You’re fucking _lying_ , and I can tell you’re lying through your teeth, like I wouldn’t notice.” He clenches his eyes shut and tears start pouring. His voice trembles lightly. “In a group with a handsome, athletic, cheerful jock, a fucking _hilarious_ bodybuilder with a sharp wit, and a sweet ball of sunshine with a great ass, how the hell am I supposed to believe you fell for the caretaker that’s always in the background, in the shadows? This… quiet asshole that always fades to the background when we hang out together and is only good for cleaning all your asses and making money to support all of you? A goddamn background character with no personality?”

And it dawns on me, right then and there.

He has no self-worth. He has absolutely no self-esteem. There’s so much about him that’s absolutely wonderful, and he just doesn’t see any of it, it seems – and he beats himself up with that, probably constantly, if what he’s telling me right now is any indication. And knowing that… hurts me. It almost makes me want to cry – it’s like a dagger upon my heart, thinking that he thinks like that about himself, probably often. Probably every day he isn’t busy, if what he told me about drinking and smoking like this is any indication. I hate it. I hate it and I wish I could make it stop.

It hurts.

I take a step forward and gently put my hand to his cheek. Again, he flinches. Again, he sinks into my touch and sobs. “…because you’re none of those things, Josh. You’re… a wonderful person, and I wish you could see that. I wish you could see how much we appreciate all you do for us, and I wish you could see how much we enjoy your presence. I wish you could see how much I like you – how I like your sense of humor, and your calm demeanor, and the little things you do… and how I wish you’d told me earlier that you liked me. And maybe things could have been different. Maybe, just…”

I gently rest my forehead against his, and we stay like that for a few moments. I can feel him grimacing – I can feel his brow furrowing, and his forehead tightening… and he swats my hand away, growling. “If you all care so much for me… I wish it fuckin’ showed. But it doesn’t. And that’s how I know it’s all lies.” He wipes his face with his hands and staggers back, towards the chair he was on, slumping back down. “Now leave me the fuck alone.”

I don’t know what to do. I don’t think words are going to reach him now. But I also don’t think it’d be right to leave him alone when he’s like this.

I sit on the couch opposite of him and look at him. He pulls out a third cigarette and begins smoking. He sniffles a bit and looks at me. “What the hell are you doing now?”

“I can’t stop you. I can’t go up there and physically stop you from doing all of this. But at least I can stay with you and keep you from doing anything dumb.” I don’t know what I mean by that.

He stares for a few seconds. “Tch. Suit yourself.” And he keeps smoking.

And the minutes pass in silence. It’s night now, and the curtains are open while the lights are off, but he doesn’t do anything about it – he just keeps sitting in silence, in the darkness. I get up and turn the lights on, closing the curtains. He’s… calmed down. His face is a lot softer than it was earlier, but he keeps smoking. “Josh.”

“What.”

I pause. “Could you please stop smoking? For me?”

He stares at the ground for a few moments… and puts his cigarette out, crossing his arms. That ashtray looks full. At least that worked. At least I could stop a part of this self-destructive spiral.

And then… he starts singing. I don’t recognize the words, or the melody, so I assume it’s in another language. It’s beautiful. It’s incredibly somber and haunting, but it’s beautiful – he just throws his head back, closes his eyes and starts to sing. He has a really nice voice, but just listening to him makes me feel more depressed than I already am. I’m not going to stop him. “That sounds nice, Josh… you should sing more often.”

He falls silent. He doesn’t acknowledge me. He just starts singing again.

And we spend the time like that. I don’t recognize a single melody he sings, but they keep coming, and they’re all different – like he’s memorized a lot of songs. But he also told me, earlier this week, that he doesn’t really listen to music these days…

…

I’m getting sleepy. Joshua looks at a clock on the wall. “…it’s late.” His voice is barely a croak. He gets up… and I run up to him, supporting him. “…tch…” I grab his arm and force him to throw it over my shoulder.

“Let’s get you to your room.”

“…”

We go up the stairs in silence. I’m going to have to come back down later to eat something and turn the lights off. I don’t think I can force him to eat.

We get to his room and I flick the lights on, swearing I see the glimmer of eyes looking at me inside the room before I see there’s nothing there. Probably my imagination. Joshua grumbles something under his breath. “What’s wrong?”

“…”

He just puts a hand on my shoulder and another on my waist and pushes me to the wall. I let it happen. He softly grabs my wrists and pins me against the wall. I let it happen as well. I know I shouldn’t, because he doesn’t really want it. Or maybe he does. Maybe all the stuff he told me is just stuff he tells himself… but he told me that he’s loved me for years now. Doesn’t seem like he has much alcohol left in his body either… I’m so conflicted. But I want it as well.

He comes in for a kiss, and I let him. And his mouth tastes horrible. This mixture of alcohol and smoke, and his lip balm is almost gone, but I let him do it anyways, because I want it. “Mm…” I gently touch his cheek… and he stops, paralyzed. He takes his lips away from me, but we’re still so close. I gently caress him. “Josh…”

He rests his forehead against mine and takes a deep breath. “No. I can’t do this. I’m sorry, James. I can’t do this.”

“But why? You know you want it. You know I want it as well.” I put a hand around his waist. “We both want it, Joshua. You know it.”

He looks at me, and I can feel that he wants to say yes. “I just can’t. I can’t do it. It’s… it’s not right.” He separates from me and heads to the bed. “It’s for your own good.”

I sigh. For my own good…

He takes his tank top off and tosses it to the ground. He puts his glasses on a nearby table. He unbuckles his belt and pulls his jeans down, revealing black boxer briefs, snug against his body. He stops once he can’t pull them down anymore. “Fuck. The boots.” He bends forward and starts unlacing one, throwing it off and throwing the sock and that pant leg off, starts on the other one… and just groans and flops back on bed. “Whatever. Good night, James.”

Still in this weird state of dress, he just turns over, facing away from me, and goes to sleep. With the light still on, with the curtains still open, still wearing one boot and his pants. And it feels like he just fell asleep the literal instant his head touched the pillow.

…

I unlace his boot and pull it off, then do the same for his sock. I pull his jeans off and fold them, neatly putting them on the table. I close the curtains. He’s trembling slightly. I open the closet, look for a bit, spot a blanket, and throw it on his body… it’s the least I can do. I can’t make him brush his teeth either, so this is the most I can do.

I go down the stairs and turn the lights there off. I’m hungry. I haven’t had dinner. I open the fridge… and I realize it’s the first time I open it on my own since I arrived here. And there’s… a lot of pineapple in here. The premade meals are running out, and I don’t really have it in me to cook something, but there’s a lot of diced pineapple in individual plastic containers.

Maybe he won’t miss this. I take one out, open it and eat its contents. That’s pineapple, alright. I wash the container and put it on the rack to dry, closing the fridge.

I return back upstairs and go to the bathroom, to brush my teeth, wash my hands, and just get ready to sleep. It’s late and I’m exhausted. After I finish brushing my teeth, I notice his razor on the counter, open, with some remains of black fur on it. Maybe he was fixing up his facial hair… but it didn’t look any different. I get the remaining hair off the razor and close it, putting it away.

I get back to the room and undress for bed… and I just look at Joshua. It’s like he’s still frowning, for whatever reason, but he looks a bit less miserable now that he has a blanket on him and he’s sleeping.

I remember last night’s dream. In it, he kissed me, and today he kissed me. Two nights ago, I dreamed of Craig’s voice, and then I met him. I might be reading too much into it, but the dreams almost feel like… a premonition of stuff. So, I wonder what it meant, when in the dream he said…

“Do you want to see the real world?” Then, “Do you want to witness reality?” And, after all that… “Why would you want to witness the real world?”

He turns in bed. He grumbles something under his breath.

_Is… this what it meant? Is this the real world? His real world, at least? What he’s really like, whatever that means? Or at least what he really feels about… everything?_

…

Never mind. I’m not going to get any answers out of him, and I’m too tired to think, so I… I guess I’ll just have to talk to him about it tomorrow. I hope he’s receptive to talking about it. I feel we need to talk about it.

I turn the light off, climb into bed, turn my phone off, and try to sleep. It doesn’t come easily, but I finally feel myself drifting off.

…

The image is… blurry. Black. It feels like static – like there’s static in front of my very eyes. A white figure slowly appears, but it’s behind static as well, so it’s hard to make out the details. Still, I know it’s Joshua. He’s appearing in my dreams. Again. He’s in his underwear, a vague black and white silhouette against a sea of black.

He speaks, but it’s like his voice cuts out – replaced with static in parts. I try to listen.

“My name is […], and I am a brother and son.”

He lifts an arm, slowly waving it once in front of his face. Something changes, but I can’t make out what.

“My name is Joshua Roderick, and I am an engineer, immigrant and friend.”

He waves the same arm in front of his face and body. I can’t tell if anything changes.

“My name is […], and I am a […], […] and […]”

His voice has almost cut out by this point.

Now there’s… another voice. It’s deep, and menacing, and I can’t make out what it says, and it’s coming from every direction at once, but it also feels… familiar.

“ **[…]** ”

Joshua slowly sits on the ground, leaning forward. “[…]”

“ **[…]** ”

He nods.

And then he disappears, as does the static in front of my eyes, but there’s nothing. No images, no sound, nothing. Just darkness. It consumes everything – including my body – and now there’s only silence.

And somehow I feel that this is the logical end of it all.

Like last night.


	14. Thursday's Bleeding Wounds (Part 4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for NSFW contents, descriptions of kinks, and self harm/suicide.

…mmh.

I stir awake. My eyelids feel incredibly heavy. Slowly, as I open them, and look around a bit, I realize it’s still dark out. Very dark out. Pitch black, actually, like it’s still the middle of the night… so why am I awake? I grumble and toss to my side. I can feel a lot of movement around me, as well, even as I shut my eyes and try to go back to sleep…

Did Liam get up? Ugh… I know that we decided to do this late at night, but really, he didn’t have to go and get up the moment I fell asleep. He knows I have to work on that damn project for next week, too… couldn’t he just have stayed the night in my dorm bed and left it at that? So annoying sometimes… I doubt my professor’s really going to give me additional time for this either. I guess I’m just pulling an all-nighter tomorrow. Or tonight. I’m not sure what time it is…

…

…wait. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them up. What am I thinking? I graduated already, and have no more projects to work on. And Liam is… well, not here, for sure. I’m… back in New Blackden, staying over at a friend’s house for a few months. No obligations to work on right now, because work doesn’t begin until next week, and I don’t have _homework_ to do, so… why did I wake up? And… that’s right, I _did_ feel a lot of movement around me. But as I look around, I can’t tell what it might be…

Something slamming into a table, followed by a small whimper, and a deep voice cursing under its breath, almost whispering. That’s Joshua. Right, that’d explain it – he is the movement. But… the last thing I remember doing is throwing a blanket on him after he passed out drunk, so what’s he doing up and about at this time?

… _what_ time is it, actually? I grab my phone, turn it on and look at the screen under the covers… it’s about eleven o’clock. Huh. I went to sleep earlier than I thought, then.

I turn the screen off and look up… Joshua is breathing deeply, and he’s… fully dressed except for the shoes? He curses under his breath, slams his feet inside his boots and laces them up. Why is he getting dressed at this time? And he’s running about, sneaking around, like he’s trying not to wake me up… He seems to not have noticed I’m awake, either. He’s still tiptoeing around me, grabbing things… he’s really getting ready to go out. He approaches his desk and curls his hand around something, softly picking it up, but it still jingles slightly – keys. That’s the sound of his car keys.

And then, he leaves the room, running down the stairs. I can hear him running down the stairs, then another door… must be the door that leads to his garage. He looks and sounds like he’s in a rush for some reason…

…

I don’t know what comes over me, but I feel I should follow. I feel I should see what he’s trying to do. I get up, put on the pants I was wearing earlier and slip into my shoes, put on my shirt, and grab my phone. Not much else I can grab. My eyes shoot to his bed… I can hardly see, but I swear that’s the blanket I threw on him, haphazardly tossed towards the side, towards the wall. It’s black, made of cotton, an opaque material…

…

I grab it. I could drape it over myself and hide in case I need to hide in the darkness. I don’t know how useful that’d be against someone with night vision as good as Joshua’s, but I feel I ought to do it regardless. With the blanket over my shoulders, I make my way down the stairs. Every light in the house is off. He’s trying not to leave any hints that he moved, which is strange.

I make my way to the garage. He’s in there. He’s checking out his car – the hood is open and he’s looking inside. I can’t peek in too much without revealing my presence. He grunts, closing the hood, and clicks a button on his keys, unlocking the car. He grimaces as the car beeps, looking up, staying silent for a few moments – I think I can see his ears craning up and panning around, like he’s trying to detect sounds. Probably trying to hear if I woke up… but, obviously, he won’t hear any sounds coming from above.

Still, I hold my breath. I’m right here, and I’m closer. He could hear me much more easily if he focused down here.

Almost like he’s reading my thoughts, his sight pans down, and towards me. I pull the blanket above myself – above my antlers – and close my eyes, not moving. I don’t know what he’d say if he saw me doing this, but it probably wouldn’t be anything nice. Shit.

He takes a step to approach… and then stops. I don’t know if that’s because he saw me, or because he didn’t. I don’t dare open my eyes.

Then, I hear him open the car doors. Alright. He didn’t see me. I have to resist the urge to sigh in relief. I open my eyes again and see him get inside the car, dimly illuminated by the interior lights. I think he sighs. He grabs the handle of the driver side door, intending to close it… oh well. I guess this is as far as my investigation goes.

He freezes. He looks to the side, then back. I see his face twist in annoyance, as he hits _something_ inside the car with his fist – maybe his own thigh? He may have clicked his tongue as well. It’s hard to tell. He leaves the car – I hide. He’s walking towards me, almost stomping. Fuck. Did he see me? I move to hide against the door frame, in the hallway, and pray that he doesn’t turn towards me…

…he walks right past me and goes into the house. Okay. He didn’t see me. Now I just hope he doesn’t go back to his room to see my bed empty.

…

I look back towards his car. The door is open, and the interior light is still on. It’s open and unlocked, and I’m assuming he’s returning here soon. If I wanted to continue this nonsense, I’d have to go there right now and… I don’t know what.

…

Something spurs me to action. I get up, sneak towards the car, and open one of the back doors, climbing in. No, I can’t just sit on the seats, or he’d just see me. I close the door… and lay down on the floor, throwing the blanket over me. This part is… pretty clean, all things considered. I guess not many people travel in the back of Joshua’s car. Okay, the blanket is draped over me in a way that covers my whole body, and I’m wrapped… I won’t face any cold, and he may not see me, because the blanket is the same color as the carpeting here – and it’s dark.

What…

What the fuck am I doing? No, this is crazy. I need to get out of this car and go back to sleep – this is ridiculous. What do I intend to do here? Why did I just… do all that? I shake my head, grab the handle of the door I just entered—

Joshua enters the car and slams his door shut. Okay. I guess I’m not getting out. The light goes off. I hide again. Something slams into the back seats – sounds like a bag. Maybe something he left, and that’s why he went away and came back now… I peek. It’s definitely a bag. Looks like a gym bag… he can’t be going to a gym right now. It’s super late at night, and he also has a home gym, so… what does he have in there?

I don’t get to wonder before he turns on the car. I hide once more. I can hear the garage doors opening. “Come on, come on…” He’s very impatient. Why…

Finally, the door seems to be open enough, because he hits the gas and the car starts moving. As I sway side to side, I pray that he doesn’t make any sudden stops or turns… because this is an incredibly precarious position I’m in right now, as I now realize. No seatbelt and no chair means I’m going to feel every part of every movement he makes… urgh. This was a mistake.

“…good fucking thing he’s such a heavy sleeper.” He must be talking about me. If only he knew.

He turns to the left, and my antlers hit the car door. Good thing there’s some blanket between them and the plastic, or he’d have heard that. Turning left at his house… that’s one of the town’s exits, right? And his house is at the very end. He makes a right – yeah, he’s definitely leaving. My feet also definitely hit the other door. I hardly fit here.

The car starts going up a slope, and these curves… yeah, this is the path to leave the town. The one that leads to the bench overlooking the town and the lake – we should be driving past it right now. He just speeds up, and we go into a road bordered on both sides by trees… I don’t remember this road, but there’s very few places to go if you’re leaving this town by car. I wonder where we’re going.

It’s still so dark out, and it’s not getting lighter anytime soon. I check the time on my phone again… a few minutes past eleven.

Hm. Better turn my phone’s volume down and set it to do not disturb… he’d notice I’m here, immediately, if I got any notifications.

…

He drives in silence for what feels like ages. After a while, he stops making so many turns, and the state of the roads improves. That’s how I know we’re outside the general New Blackden area and are heading elsewhere – he speeds up. We must be on one of the highways. He keeps driving in what feels like a straight line for quite some time. I still don’t recognize where we are. I can’t look out – and it’s not like I’d be able to see much. Sure, there’s the street lights, but there’s _nothing_ around in the highways here, just trees. Trees around, electrical lights, a handful of other cars, the moon above…

He slows down a bit and starts making a few turns. The sounds outside grow a bit louder – less like we’re alone in a highway, more like we’re approaching a settlement. He continues going slower each time, and I feel he’s going to stop soon. Now there’s a fair bit of noise outside – people talking to each other, laughing. Some slurred speech, like the speaker is drunk. Cackling. The cadence of… flirting.

He comes to a stop, and the bag he put on the chair behind me rolls over, falling on me. It falls on my stomach. I have to bite my tongue to not make any noise, even as it knocks the air out of me a bit…

Joshua turns the car off and grabs the bag, lifting it up. It’s not like it was particularly heavy or anything – though it definitely had stuff inside – I was mostly taken off-guard. “Fucking shit on a stick. Late.” He opens the door, and the light turns on. I can’t see it from here, but I can tell he left the car, because it rises a bit – wow, he’s heavy.

…

My hand shoots to the handle of my door, and I open it a crack. A split second after, I hear Joshua close his door and run off, before the doors lock. Just… just like what I did last Monday… and just like last Monday, I can’t explain why I did this. Why these ideas popped into my head.

When I can no longer hear footsteps around the car, I wait a few more moments. I have to make sure he’s gone before making my move. A few of the other sounds start to die down as well. A few minutes pass. After a bit, I push the door open and step out. I’m glad nobody saw me – I’d get a lot of weird looks. I leave the blanket inside the car and close the door, the light inside finally turning off. I look around… there isn’t much out here. This seems to be the outskirts of a city – there’s more urbanization in the distance, and a lot of lights. Still, I’m not really alone. This car isn’t alone – there’s a few more next to it, on both sides, even if this isn’t a parking lot proper. Not many places to pay attention to… except for the building Joshua parked in front of. I don’t see him anymore. If he went anywhere, it must have been this building.

I approach, and I can finally make out what the sign at the top says.

**Heaven’s Moon**  
_LGBT Nightclub & Bar_

…a nightclub, huh. Interesting that he’d come to a place like this. All the other buildings around are closed or shuttered, and their lights are off, so this bright neon building with all the lights definitely sticks out, like it’s meant to draw attention. That’s strange… I can’t see anyone around. I swear I heard more people when we were approaching this place, but now there’s nothing. Maybe they’re all already inside.

This is… impressively stupid. I really shouldn’t have sneaked into the car. Now that I’m outside, and the door is locked, I have no choice besides seeking Joshua out, unless I want to die of cold. And to think maybe he just wanted to have a night out, and that’s why he sneaked out like that, without warning anyone… man, everyone’s entitled to having their own private hobbies, and I don’t really care what he’s doing in there.

But I wonder what he meant when he said he was late, or why he was so stressed and rushing so much. I check the time on my phone… it’s about 11:50. I’d be asleep around this time normally, but I guess I caught some sleep earlier, so I don’t feel anything. Maybe he just had an appointment with someone. The guys in the gang say that he gets around a fair bit, so maybe?

Ugh, no use thinking about that, and I feel gross just forming the suspicions in my head.

I approach the building. A sign by the door… it says that there’s no cover for entry. I’m glad, because I brought no money. There’s nobody standing by the door either… huh. They’re pretty open about who they let in. Not that I’m much of a nightclub person, so I wouldn’t know how this normally goes. I thought Joshua wasn’t like that either, but maybe he changed recently. Maybe he just tried it out and liked it…?

I come in, and a security guard stops me, telling me to lift my arms to the sides. As I do, I get patted down. The guard gives me a bit of a funny look, but he just tells me to proceed. Hm. Maybe I just don’t look like the kind of person that’d come to a place like this – dress shirt, the quiet demeanor…

I have to push past a curtain to get in… oh, wow, it’s a lot warmer inside, and rather dimly lit. A lot of blue and purple lights. It… smells like smoke and alcohol. Like there’s people smoking in here. There’s some music playing. A bit loud. It’s… club music. I don’t want to sound like a snob or anything, but it’s completely unremarkable club music. I don’t even know who is singing. There’s a few people dancing with each other in the middle of the large room, illuminated just by a few blue, purple, and red lights. Some light machines trace patterns in the middle of that stage. There’s some people staying away from that area, towards the sides of the room, at what look like tables and a bar. The side with the bar is pretty well lit. A few more tables and seats on the other end of the room, all around a stage where the lights are currently off…

And the clientele… If I didn’t feel out of place already, I definitely do now. It’s mostly men, as far as I can tell. But they’re all either dressed brightly, showing a lot of skin, or blatantly wearing fetish gear – or some combination of such. I didn’t know shorts could ride that high. It’s usually the ones dancing with each other that are dressed like that, and they’re getting… pretty handsy. That, with the dim lighting and the music makes the place feel very sleazy. It’s a bit uncomfortable for me, but that’s alright. It’s just not my thing, I guess. They’re all so big, though… all either athletic, muscular, or chubby, or several of those at once, and I’m just left here…

I really don’t feel I’d fit in here. No wonder the guard looked at me funny.

I wonder if Joshua really came here. Sure, he fits the physical bill more – and he’s bigger than pretty much everyone I see here – but his outfit and personality… it doesn’t seem like he’d enjoy a place like this. Then again, I wouldn’t know. People have hidden depths, and maybe this is how he likes to let loose…

…that’s a discomforting thought. I can’t explain why.

Looking around… I can’t find him in the crowd. I’d surely be able to find someone with his frame and size easily, but I can’t see him. The lights aren’t helping much – it’s hard to find anyone if your whole world is bathed in mood lighting. The colors change again – now it’s this combination of various hues of green and blue. Teal, indigo, something that reminds me of aquamarine but probably has a different name…

“I’m coming.”

Amongst the noises of the crowd and the music, a voice sticks out. That’s Joshua. That has to be him – or at least someone that sounds almost identical to him… the enunciation was a bit off. It came from the bar. When I manage to push through the crowd and get there, I see nobody. A bowtie is left on the bar, right where I arrive, and, as I pay attention to the bartenders, I realize why – it’s all men. Hot hunks, half naked, wearing only a black bowtie like the one right in front of me, and very snug… is that underwear? Lingerie? Whatever it is, it is so tight that it looks almost spray-painted onto the guys’ groins, leaving nothing to the imagination. They have a pattern like a regular bartender’s outfit on the front, albeit deformed by the weight of their… ahem.

A new man appears, wearing one like those, and reaches out to the bowtie left on the bar. He’s looking to his left. I look in the same direction… the crowd is closing, like someone just walked through them. Maybe the person that spoke, was working here as well, and left that behind. The man puts the bowtie on and addresses me. “Stare all you want, stud. That’s what we’re here for.” He winks.

I’m… taken aback a bit. “I, uh…”

“Gonna order anything, hot stuff?” God, he’s flirty.

“Um, no, I don’t want anything, thank you.”

“Oh~” He leans over the bar, crossing his arms. “So you’re not _that_ kind of thirsty, but the other kind, huh? Well, feast your eyes, but you gotta pay extra to go any further!” He winks and gives me a cheeky smirk. He’s laying it on… really thick. He clears his throat. “…so, how was that? I’m trying to learn a thing or two from one of our more veteran workers – he always gets the guys really riled up and gets lots of tips…”

“Uh…” I’m not fully sure how to handle this. “I… don’t know? It’s my first time here, and I don’t know that person, but it felt like a lot.”

“Oh…”

“I’m… sorry, I have to go.” I nod and turn away from him. This was a mistake. I’ll just order a taxi, then pay however much it charges when I get to Joshua’s house. I’ll have to tell the guy to wait outside while I grab the money, but… I guess it’s better than staying here.

“Wait.” A different voice I can’t identify calls out to me. I can somewhat feel feet in high heels approaching. As I turn, I’m met with… a person. I’m not sure what gender they could possibly be, but this level of makeup, and the size of the hair, along with the dress… a drag queen, maybe? “Come here a bit.” She beckons me towards the bar – the guy that approached me before is gone, serving other customers.

“O… kay.” This experience is weird enough as it is. I come over, sitting next to her. She’s positively statuesque – already tall, and the heels are doing her several favors. The makeup is impeccable, really cutting shapes into her face… a raccoon, maybe? It’s hard to tell what species she even is with all that decoration on – like, more than being a human, she’s a perfect facsimile of an ideal statuesque woman. And her hair looks immaculate, too. She looks stunning, I have to admit.

“So.” Her voice is completely androgynous. “Are you new here, darling?” Something about her voice is distinctly calming – motherly, almost. She grabs a martini glass from the bar, filled with something pink, and takes a sip out of it, still looking at me.

“Er… yeah. It’s my first time here.”

“By ‘here’ do you mean ‘in this specific bar’ or ‘on this side of the road’? Because you really don’t look like the usual clientele my bar gets.”

“Oh… yeah, it’s not really my vibe… wait, you’re the owner of this place?”

“Yes.” Another sip. “My name is Janelle Roux. Well, it’s not my _real_ name, but you know how it is with us queens.” Her demeanor is… very charismatic and exquisite. It’s relaxing, even.

I guess that’s confirmation that she’s a drag queen. “Oh, that’s a nice name. I’m James. Real name. So you do like, she pronouns, then?”

She chuckles. “Call me whatever you want as long as you call me, baby.”

Okay, that’s pretty smooth. “Mm, alright.”

“So, what brings you here? When I was told there was a new deer boy in my bar and he looked completely lost, I just _had_ to know what was up there. And, now that I see you, you don’t look like the type that goes to bars a lot.”

“I’m… not, so you have that right.” I wonder how uncomfortable I must look. “Wait, but, you knew I was here? Do people know?”

Another light chuckle. “Honey, I have eyes and ears _all_ over Heaven’s Moon. Nothing happens without me finding out. Nobody enters or leaves without me knowing.”

I don’t know if that’s comforting or discomforting as a thought. But, actually, it gives me an idea. “Well, actually, I’m here looking for someone – at least I think he’s here.”

“Suspicious questions to ask.” She crosses her legs and leans towards me. “Do tell. I’ll see if I can help.”

“Er, well, it’s this tall lion guy, pretty bulky. Dresses in all black, has a bit of a dour demeanor going on? Long, fluffy, black mane that he keeps loose at all times, glasses, striking yellow eyes… pretty kind if you look past the first layer…”

She arches an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re looking for your boyfriend, because that loving description? Oh, baby.” If only she knew. She leans back, looking at me, swirling her drink around in its glass. She takes a sip and pauses for a second. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone with that description. I’m sorry.”

“Oh…” Maybe he didn’t come here at all. “It’s alright. Thanks for the help anyways.”

“Anytime, darling. And hey, lighten up! Even if you don’t find your boyfriend, you can dance the night away, and maybe find another one.” She laughs as she gets up and leaves. What a character.

…and I’m left with my thoughts, as her heels clack away from me. Maybe I was wrong, and Josh didn’t come here at all. Or… maybe she lied. For a moment I wonder… what if he works here? I feel that would… fit. I know nothing about his job, beyond him saying that he’s in freelancing whenever anyone asks. Him being a bartender would explain how much he seemed to know about making cocktails when he first brought me here – and how well he seems to know his way around alcohol in general. But also, him being a security guard would fit, because he’s got the build for it, and… I’m still not sure what he did to Craig earlier today, but it was enough for him to flee running, apparently. Could be either.

Still, that wouldn’t explain the amount of money he has. I don’t think either of those professions pay that much money, even in a place like this.

…

The lights dim and the music goes out. Nobody seems alarmed by this – instead people just crowd around the stage on the other end of the room. Maybe they know that means a show of some sort is about to begin. Alright, one last chance. Joshua might be there, if he’s here – and if I don’t see him there, he’s definitely not here at all. Maybe there are some benefits to my build – I manage to squeeze past people a bit, until I’m right next to the stage… even if I had to grind against a few sweaty men to get here. I’d imagine Joshua would be able to push past the crowd as well, for different reasons, so maybe being here would let me find him easier… but it’s so dark.

“We heard you asking for it.” The queen’s voice comes through some speakers, but she’s nowhere to be seen. The crowd is getting riled up. “You’ve been asking for him to return for some time, and tonight, we’re granting your wish. Back at his home bar, for our stripper night.” It’s then that I realize there’s a pole in the middle of the stage in front of me. Ah, damn. It’s probably going to get a bit sleazy again. I don’t think that’s something Joshua would get into. “You’ve seen him online, and you’ve seen the ads – and now, honey, he’s here for all of you to enjoy. And you _know_ he will do _anything_ for the right amount of coin…”

If I narrow my eyes, I can tell that there’s a figure standing at the back of the stage, behind some curtains. The person pushes them apart – it’s a man, but I can’t make out many details. A large one. It’s just a large silhouette to me – it’s too dark for me to tell anything else… but as he steps forth, the crowd gets more riled up. The voice comes again. “Get your tips ready – and also your _tips_ – because he’s hungry and ready to give you all some love!” The silhouette moves in front of the pole, facing the crowd, raising one hand and holding the pole, while the other goes behind his back. I really wish I could see… literally anything past that, but there’s only a slight crack of light coming from behind the curtains. I can tell there’s hands reaching out to whoever is on the stage already – the people here seem to love him.

“Now, with all of you…”

The lights turn on – reflectors aimed right at the stage and at the person on it. It’s…

“Adam Garcia!”

…

…it’s Joshua.

That’s… He has his mane tied back into a tight bun, isn’t wearing glasses, and his eyes are blue – contacts, I’m assuming – but that’s most definitely Joshua on that stage.

What…

He arches an eyebrow, licks his lips and winks, and the crowd goes crazy. We’re still bathed in darkness, but he’s got light directly on him. The center of attention, and it reflects off his black and white fur as well. A lot of it, because of how exposed he is. He’s just wearing boots, long, glossy black gloves that reach to the halfway point of his biceps, some long, thigh high socks in the same material, and… what looks like a thong, also glossy and black. It’s so tiny. It rides up all the way. It’s hardly covering him up at all – I swear I can see the base of his penis. He even changed his nipple piercings, now wearing rings with… a chain between them. And a leather harness on top of that. He looks…

He looks nothing like the way he is around us. This isn’t something he’d wear. This isn’t something he’d be comfortable with. Yet I’m certain the person on the stage is him. I can’t… say his name. He was even called by a different name. Clamoring for his return… how often does he do this?

The light dims again, and colorful lights swirl around the stage. A different music mix starts to play – something very bassy, pounding, slow, and sexy, with some seductive vocals in… Spanish. It has to be Spanish. He slowly drops, back against the pole, into a squat… that hanging bulge almost touches the ground. And he starts. In turn with the music, he runs his body up and down that pole, dancing against it, spinning, swaying his hips in a smooth, almost hypnotic motion. And when he drops low, he always looks directly into audience members’ eyes, and gives them this… incredibly intense fuck-me stare, like he’s consumed by this flirty persona. And the hands come. Some are holding bills that they tuck into his gloves, or his socks, or his harness… and many tuck money into his thong. They come greedily, pulling the precarious string back just to shove money in. Some throw cash directly on the stage. Some of the hands are empty, only coming up to touch him… and he allows them. They grope his biceps, they ride up his sides, they rub against his armpits, they caress his thighs, they squeeze his chest, and his groin, and his ass… and he just sways his tail and smiles, like he likes it. He bends over, and I get to see just how much the thong rides up his ass. There’s nothing left to the imagination – just muscular cheeks coated in white fur, and the tail dangling above them, swaying side to side, almost drawing attention to it. A whole spectacle of sex. Experience. Deliberately titillating the audience.

He drops to his knees, and hands go up to touch him. He grabs the chain binding his nipples together, puts it in his mouth and pulls up with his jaw, as more hands go up to hold his chest and squeeze it. It’s several men. I don’t realize it until now, but several of the guys are… touching themselves. They just pulled their dicks out and are masturbating to the show. And… Joshua is allowing it. Actually he… reaches over and touches some of the guys, stroking them a bit… licking his hands… and now he’s kissing some of them – sloppy, wet kisses, before he draws back, a string of spit between his tongue and that of the anonymous men groping him, wiping his lip with his thumb seductively… and getting back to dancing and being groped by men and groping men. And getting money. Oh, so much money.

This…

I can’t say that I’m in shock because it’s him. Obviously it’s a bit shocking because of how harsh of a departure this is from the way he always acts, and there’s something disturbing about the way he… so fully tosses himself into it. Touching and getting touched, and being a piece of meat for all the men watching, sweating, getting their hands on him… it’s so weird, coming from him. I’m shocked that he never told anyone, because this is the first time I see this side of him, and it’s like he’s been doing it his whole life – he’s a natural at it. It’s like he knows what buttons to push and how to get the crowd riled up, to give him more money. It’s admirable. It would be admirable, but…

…but my main problem, and the main reason I’m so bothered… is how he looks and acts. He looks… completely and utterly dead behind the eyes, and I don’t get why nobody else notices it. Every time a new pair of hands goes up to him to grope, I can feel how he flinches ever so slightly, and I don’t get why nobody else notices that either. I can… almost imagine he hates this. It seems like something he’d hate, and I wonder if he does, because… there’s no life in his eyes. Maybe it’s just the fact that I know him. Maybe it’s just how much he means to me, and all the stuff we went through today. But he looks different. He already looks tired most of the time, but right now… right now he looks like he wants to die, in my eyes. No matter how much he emotes with his eyebrows, and how many cheeky, flirty smiles he makes at the crowd, or how much he licks his hands or lips, or the amount of men he kisses… his eyes remain empty. He’s completely empty behind the eyes, like there’s no light there.

But he keeps going. He keeps dropping low, and rising high, and flashing his ass, and rubbing his chest, and getting groped, and groping, and dancing, swaying his hips, swinging from that pole, twisting around it, all to entertain this crowd and get them off. Some of them orgasm. I see it happen. I just hope none of it gets on my clothes. None of them shoot at the stage. Maybe it’s not allowed, but still, he reaches out and… licks his hands…

Now he’s sliding with his back against the pole, up and down, mimicking sex. I shouldn’t be surprised, given the whole spectacle of debauchery this whole thing has been. Now he’s turned around, holding onto the pole, bending over, letting the men touch him, smiling as they do. Some slip their hands under his thong. He doesn’t stop them. He just receives more money and touches. He drops low, sticking his tongue out, starting to pull his underwear down – please don’t tell me he’s going to get fully naked… and then he lets go, and it snaps back into place, and he bites his lip. It’s a whole routine.

The song is about to end. He spins around, throwing his leg around the pole. He goes up and down it a few times, then, at last, he throws his whole body back, tongue stuck out, smirking, holding onto the pole with his leg.

His hands reach out to me. He touches my groin directly – and the absolute lack of stiffness there. And his hands slowly ride up – or down, for him – and he touches more of my body. And he comes to my face, and cups it…

…and he squints a bit, looking at me…

…and the song ends, as all color drains from his face and the smile disappears. His eyes go wide. He’s finally realized I’m here. I don’t know what he intended to do, but he doesn’t do it. Instead he just stares at me, horrified, as the crowd around us cheers us on, and more money goes to him and to the stage. The character is broken.

…

He stands up and runs backstage, abruptly leaving the stage. The lights turn off. There’s confusion. That wasn’t supposed to happen. There’s a lot of tips on the stage, and someone runs to the stage from the back, to pick them up. It’s dark. I can’t see much.

…

In the confusion, I climb on the stage. It doesn’t seem like anyone notices. I don’t know what drove me to do that. The same force that compelled me to get in the car, maybe. I run backstage, and I manage to catch a glimpse of Joshua storming off. I need to follow him—

“Code blue. Young small deer.”

I look back at the stage and the rest of the club, and there’s security guards scanning the place now. That was Joshua’s voice saying that. What… are they looking for me now? What the hell? I need to keep following him. Still, I don’t know if I should call out to him.

We twist and turn a few times. He’s walking faster now. He starts running. The plain brick walls of this place of the club are disorienting – obviously not someplace that regular customers are supposed to go. I’m running out of breath—

Joshua bumps into someone. It’s a man, shorter than him, and obviously drunk. “Adam!” He’s slurring every word. “I came looking for you!”

A single gasp… and the person that was dancing on the stage is back. Just… effortless switching into and out of this stage persona. “Aw, were you?” His tone is sing-songy, flirty… “Come on, you know you can’t be back here…”

“I know, but… I wanted to see you again!” He stumbles back towards the wall. “Heheh, you’re so smoking hot…”

“Mmm…” He lightly pins the man to the wall with his body. “But you can’t be here anyways, silly.” Lightly touching his cheek, making him look up at his face. “C’mon, hurry back out before anyone finds you… we have an appointment next week, remember?” And a quick kiss… before lightly patting his shoulder. “See you there…”

“Aha, heh…” The man stumbles away, in my direction. He notices me. “Hah, you looking for Adam too? He’s something else, huh?” And he disappears.

Joshua keeps looking that direction for a few seconds, until the man is gone… and then he looks at me, and the character slips again. He keeps running away. I give chase.

He enters a room and I arrive here as well. There’s no more exits. “J—”

Before I can say anything, a pair of hands snatches me up from behind, holding me a foot above the ground. I yelp. It’s one of the security guards. “Found him.” The same one that patted me down when I entered this place.

Joshua just looks at him.

“Is he bothering you, Adam? This is who the code blue was for, right?”

He looks at the guard, and then at me. What… is going to happen to me?

…he slowly shakes his head. “…no. Let him down.” He takes a deep breath. “We’re… going to have this conversation eventually, anyways.”

“…sure.” And the large brute lets me down. “Contact us if he tries something funny.”

“I will.”

The guard leaves. There’s another set of stomping behind me – high heels. I spin around right as Janelle bursts into the room, still looking immaculate. She looks at Joshua. “Adam.” Then, her eyes dart towards me, and she sighs, gaze still steely. “…so, my suspicions were right. You _were_ looking for Adam.”

Adam.

His name is Joshua, goddammit.

Joshua remains silent. Janelle speaks again. “You don’t want me to get him out of here? I can have him thrown out immediately, just say the word.”

“No. No…” His response is immediate. “I feel I need to talk to him.”

She nods slowly. “Alright.” She looks at me. “Don’t lay a finger on any of my boys.” And she turns tail and leaves, clacking away…

I look around… this is a dressing room. Small one, with a couple of mirrors and a couple of tables. Just for two people. There’s a door in the back, and a few chairs, not much to it. I spot some of Joshua’s belongings on one of the tables… this has to be his dressing room…

His dressing room? Does he just work here full time? What’s going on?

He stares at me for a few moments. Then, he takes the tips out of his precarious clothing, leaving it on the table. That’s a hefty amount of cash. He opens the door on the back, revealing a bathroom, and washes his hands. He comes out, takes the colored contact lenses off and puts them away, lets his mane down, puts his glasses back on… and the Joshua I know is back.

He leans back on the table. “…so. Hi.” He’s awkward. I’m awkward.

I slowly nod, walking further into the room. There’s a chair opposite of him – I grab it, spin it around, and sit in front of him. He just keeps looking down. “Hi.”

Silence hangs over us. “You must have several questions.”

“I do. I…” I’m not even sure where to start. I’m still a bit shaken up from what I saw there – how he threw himself on the stage, let everyone go to town on him, and very obviously hated it, at least in my eyes. “What was… that?”

He crosses his arms. “…my job.”

That’s the only answer, isn’t it? “Alright.” I weigh my next question heavily. “Just… dancing?”

“…”

“Is it just dancing and receiving tips and… everything else?”

His eyes glaze over.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“…six years.” He’s been here for six years. That’s how long he’s been in Canada. He’s just been doing this since he got here.

“Do any of the others know that you do this?”

“No.”

“So nobody knows?”

“Nobody.” He squeezes himself tighter. “Nobody… but…”

“But what? Who?”

He turns around and grabs a cigarette and his lighter from the table, lighting it and starting to smoke. There’s no windows in this room. No wonder it smells a bit musty, if he does this here often. With the cigarette still in his lips, he grabs his phone from the table, taps something into it, then hands it to me. “Just… look. This is how many people know, and what I do.”

I grab it from his hands and he goes back to smoking. He’s got a social media app open, on a profile.

Username is AdamGarciaCoXXX. That’s him. That’s the name that he was called. The avatar is him, shirtless, with his mane tied into a bun and blue eyes, winking at the camera and sticking his tongue out. A very high quality selfie. The description reads…

‘Hottest, Naughtiest Papi in the Industry ♥  
100% Colombian Lion Beef ♥  
Top 0.5% Performer ♥  
Dancer, Stripper, Model, Streamer, and Something Else… ♥  
18+ ONLY!’

And some physical stats. His height. His weight. And…

…

I look at the number of followers.

Almost three hundred thousand.

“I…”

That’s… almost three hundred thousand people that are following his moves on this social media. It doesn’t account for the people that check his profile at random.

I scroll further down. The latest post just details how he’s going to be performing at Heaven’s Night tonight – a well put together ad, like a digital flier. A few hundred likes. The pinned post is a clip. I tap on it and it starts to play at a low volume…

He walks into the camera’s view, dressed in a hot pink tank top with enormous holes on the sides that hide almost nothing, shorts, and sneakers. He sits on a couch. I recognize it as the couch in his house. Again, his hair is tied back, his eyes are blue, and he is wearing no glasses. “Hey~” He cheekily grins at the camera and gives it a thumbs up, sticking his tongue out. That’s the same person that was on the stage dancing – not the Joshua I knew, but this Adam persona.

The scene changes, and now he’s dancing on a pole, very scantily clad, swinging up and down it, in a very erotic show. Some music plays in the background. He’s doing some impressive stunts on it, but for the most part, it’s meant to be hot. The scene changes once more, and now he’s walking out in public with other people, in a place I don’t recognize, but that looks a lot warmer than New Blackden. He pulls his tank top up and the guys grope his chest, as he bites his lip.

The scene changes again, and now he’s on his knees, next to a road, fellating the same guys from the previous clip. Several at the same time, as the camera pans upon the needy faces he’s making. The scene changes, and now he’s laying on a bed, bent over, swaying his tail slowly, spreading his buttcheeks apart with his hands, moaning. I recognize the bed. It’s the one I found a couple of days ago – the one he said was for guest rental purposes. The scene changes, and now he’s in front of a computer, riding a dildo. He is naked, except for the harness he’s wearing. He’s going faster, his face bending into an expression of more pleasure, as he gropes his chest. The scene changes, and now he’s getting fucked. The scene changes again, and he’s getting fucked as well, by a different guy. The scene changes, and it’s a different guy, but now he’s giving him head. And the scenes keep changing. It’s a spectacle of debauchery – sex upon sex upon sex.

I scroll down and the video stops. This next video that begins playing shows him welcoming someone into his house – that’s the stag I saw leaving his house last Sunday. He greets the camera, and the deer man grins and winks. Then, they start kissing and pulling their clothes off. The clip cuts off, and a link to a different site appears – one of those fan sites, where you have to pay a subscription fee to get access to private content. Same account name as this one. I scroll down, and there’s more previews, and also posts from other performers that… seem to be coworkers of his. A few more clips, that seem to be recorded with actual porn studios, and him thanking them for the opportunity to appear on their videos. Thousands of likes on each post. Several.

I scroll further. Now he’s sucking dick somewhere public. I scroll further. Now he’s getting groped in the middle of a train station. I scroll further. Now he’s at a hotel, getting fucked against the wall by a guy while others seemingly wait their turn. I scroll further. Now he’s wearing bondage gear and whipping another naked guy. I scroll further. Now he’s getting hot wax from a candle dripped on his bare chest. I scroll further. Now he’s got his head hanging off the edge of a bed, as a guy thrusts in and out of his mouth. I scroll further. Now he’s on his knees, looking up at the camera, naked, on the floor of a shower, as the person recording unzips their pants and…

…

I scroll all the way back up. I don’t want to see this. I notice some links I missed the first time around. The first one is just a link to a different social media site. The second one is a link to the fansite I saw advertised below. The third is to a site I don’t recognize. I tap on it. It pulls up a different site with a darker interface, and there’s pictures of him. There’s more detailed stats on his body here, along with routines. Scrolling through the pics, it almost feels like he’s showing himself like a piece of meat at the market. I scroll down… to be met with a few bits of suspicious information. An hourly rate. A fee for specific kinks. A button to book an appointment, grayed out, because the calendar is full, apparently. _This is an escort site._

…

I lock the phone and shake my head. No. This isn’t what Joshua does for a living. It’s not… it’s a lot. This can’t be right.

No matter how bothered I am, I’m not as bothered as he is. I look up, and I’m met by him blankly staring into the distance as he leans back on his desk, lit cigarette still on his lips. He’s just breathing in and out through his mouth, dispensing smoke. Every breath he takes, the cigarette burns out more… and it’s almost done. Almost entirely burnt out, so now it’s just a pillar of ash. He breathes, and it falls, directly onto his bare chest.

“Josh.” I leave the phone on the table and hold him by the sides – trying to wrap my hands around his arms.

He blinks a few times and looks at me. “…so, you know now.”

“This is… your job?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell us anything?”

He bites down on the cigarette butt on his lips. “I did. I never lied about anything. I said I was working in freelancing, and I was. I’m a freelance dancer, stripper, porn model, and whore. It’s all true.”

I hate that answer. “But why?”

He looks at me for a bit. “It pays the bills. Very well. My bills, and everyone’s bills, and my family’s bills.”

“But… you hate it!”

He is trembling. He slowly shakes his head. “But it pays well. And it’s all I can really do here. My original job didn’t shake out, and I started doing this, and it paid well.”

“I…”

He sighs, smoking the last of his cigarette, putting the butt out on an overfull, unclean ashtray on his table. “Just… this is why I didn’t want any of you to ever find out. Because you’d start to worry, but it’s… fine. But… now you know why I can’t do it. Why I couldn’t go further, because of what happened earlier today. Why I said it was for your own good.”

He was smashed drunk. How does he remember all that?

He hugs himself. “Nobody should be with someone like this. I’m… filthy. Marked. You wouldn’t want to go out with a porn model and filthy _prostitute._ ” He squeezes. “I’ve… done so much. I’m known for doing almost anything and everything that’s asked of me. That’s my selling point. And the kinds of things that I’m asked to do are…” He closes his eyes. “I’ve kissed so many men. Licked so many bodies. Given oral sex to so many dicks. Fucked so many asses. Been fucked by so many people. I’m… I’m public property, James. And nobody likes that.”

I’m not sure what to say to that. I don’t know what’s the worst part. How much he hates his job, or how there’s no emotion in his voice – he isn’t even sad. He isn’t angry. He’s… completely despondent and blank, like he’s just used to it. Like he’s just internalized every part of this as fact.

A deep breath. “You don’t have a ride home, do you. How did you even get here.”

“…I hid in your car.”

He nods slowly. “I see. I didn’t notice. I wasn’t expecting the last guy I touched to be you. I’m sorry I touched you with my filthy hands like that. I’m sorry. You stood right where the guy that gets the most attention always stands. But… but I should have seen it coming. Lady Janelle warned me that a deer came here asking about someone close to my description. She told me she manipulated you to lose interest, because she knows I don’t want anyone from my real life to know about this stuff. But you went and watched the show anyways, and found out. She did her best.”

“She protects you.”

“All of us. My boss. The best some _thing_ like me could ask for.” A deep, shaking breath. He seems to deflate. “I… I bet you’re disgusted enough as it is. And I have to go and give some… private dances in a bit. Lap dances. It’s what’s next in my schedule. But you’re… sorry.” He sounds incredibly conflicted…

…

For as much as the circumstances are rather shocking to me, I can’t just go and feed into him feeling horrible about it. It’s work, and he does it well, and he shouldn’t be ashamed of it. “No, no, it’s alright.” I give him a smile and gently rub his arm. “It’s your job. Go do it.”

His fingertips tremble. “You’re just saying that.” He takes a deep breath and takes his glasses off. “…alright.” He ties his mane back up, and puts his contacts back in. It’s a pretty gentle change, now that I see it up close. It looks natural, almost. “I’ll… I’ll be right back.” He cracks his neck and leaves the room—

“Wait.”

He turns to me. I point to his chest, where he has a bunch of ash. He looks down… lazily swipes it away, not getting all of it. “…they won’t care. Worse things they’ll put on me.” And he finishes leaving.

The silence and emptiness in the room doesn’t last long, as, almost the moment Joshua leaves, someone else enters. It’s… the handsome deer. The one I saw last Sunday, leaving Joshua’s house, and then again, just now, on Joshua’s phone. They were… probably filming something at his house. He arches an eyebrow when he sees me. “Oh, hey there. You’re that deer guy that was going to Adam’s house while I was leaving.”

“Mm.” I nod and wave weakly.

“Do you mind? You’re sitting on my workstation…” He points at the chair I’m sitting on—

I get up. “Oh, oh… I’m sorry.” I get up, standing opposite of him, by Joshua’s table. The one labeled Adam Garcia.

“Thanks, man.” He smiles and sits on the chair, sighing. “Start of my shift…” He moves some things around on his table, pulling out some things to wear. Not much fabric.

“You’re one of J— _Adam’s_ coworkers, right?”

“Yep.” He doesn’t turn to look at me, but his chipper demeanor remains. “So, he finally told you about his job?”

“…no. Well, yes, I found out, but he didn’t intend to tell me. Instead I experienced it.”

“Oh, that must have been shitty for him. He’s super secretive about this stuff for a reason. Doesn’t want anyone he knows off the job to know what he does on the job.” He stands and slips out of his shoes, taking his shirt off. That’s a very nice physique. Athletic. Not quite as large as Joshua, even if he’s almost the same height.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Off go the pants, hitting the ground unceremoniously. Off… goes the underwear as well, and I’m left looking at his bare ass. “Uh, hope you don’t mind seeing me like this.”

“You’re… not shy about undressing in front of others at all, huh?”

“Why would I?” He chuckles. “It’s my job, and you’re pretty cute, too, so I don’t mind you looking. Better than some of the clientele.”

The job…

“You do the same stuff as J… _Adam_ , right? The dancing, the stripping, the… escorting?”

“Yeah.” He pulls something out of a box on his table – a bowtie. “But tonight I’m on bartending duty. He does that too. You pour drinks for the thirsty men and you let them drink in the sight of your body as well, and all that.” He wraps it around his neck, locking it in place, before slipping into one of those thongs the bartenders were wearing. At least it’s… more covered on the back, but his tail is precariously peeking off the top of that thing. It’s like mine. I wag mine on instinct, almost to confirm it’s still there. “Anyways, I’m going to assume that Adam’s real name starts with a J, since you’ve choked up trying to say it several times?”

“…yeah. What’s your name?”

“Andy Cox. Artistic name, you know. You can find me like that on social media too.” He pulls something out of a drawer in the table… makeup. First a wipe, and he wipes his face, then fans his slightly damp fur. “Adam knows the real one, but he’s never told me his real name. He hides a lot of facts about his real life from me. I think it goes both ways for him – doesn’t want to mix work and his personal life in any way.”

“I can… see why. Not—not to slut shame or anything.”

He chuckles. “I get ya.” He lightly dabs some foundation on his fur, smoothing out the tone a bit. “Not something that’s socially accepted and all that jazz. I mean, he can keep his secrets if he wants, really – adds to the mystery, on some level. I don’t really know what he does outside of work, or much of who he is. I just know he shows up, is the best damn performer I’ve worked with – and also the best fuck – and then clocks out.”

“So you two… do it regularly?”

“Yep.” Now he’s applying some eyeliner. Incredibly light. Almost imperceptible. “Our fans _love_ to see us together, for one reason or another. Best to capitalize on that, and it’s enjoyable too, you know?”

“Do you even know how old he is?”

“Uh, nope. Hm… I’m guessing somewhere between his twenties and thirties?”

Oh. “He’s… twenty-eight.”

“Oh! I wasn’t _that_ off, then.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty years young.” He smirks. He grabs some lip balm and puckers his lips up, applying it evenly in front of the mirror. I think it’s the same cherry brand that I tasted on Joshua’s lips earlier today.

“…doesn’t it bother you that you’re doing it regularly with someone that’s almost ten years older than you?” And I guess it’s a sort of litmus for me as well, because he’s six years older than me.

Andy drops his hand to the side and laughs. “You think ten years is a big age gap? Baby. That’s how I know you’re not a sex worker.” He finishes fixing himself up. He looks great. You can’t even tell he’s wearing any makeup. “I regularly fuck guys that are many more decades older than me – why should I be bothered that I get to do it with a hot daddy type that actually knows how to fuck and actually knows how to clean up?” He turns around, crossing his arms and leaning against his table, facing me.

“I… I guess. I don’t think about that stuff much. Like I said, I just found out today that he does all this…”

“Haha. I guess it’s a bit of a shock when you first find out, but it’s normal, really. I’ve seen… _two_ types of people in this line of work. You’ve got young people that are paying for other stuff, and you’ve got old people that have it as their permanent life project, and hey, more power to them. Considering I’ve never heard of Adam doing anything else, and his age, I’d say that he’s probably the latter…”

“…but twenty-eight isn’t old.”

“You’re not familiar with gay death? Well, never mind that.” He puts away some stuff on his table. “Actually, can I ask you something?”

“…sure.”

He finishes and turns to me, pointing at my face and squinting, smiling. “You’re James Mason, aren’t you?”

…

“Yeah.”

“Knew it. We do look a lot like each other, don’t we? Same fur color, same face. My antlers are just a bit bigger.” He chuckles.

“Why… do you know about me?”

“Well, you know how I said that Adam hides everything about his personal life? You’re the exception. It’s like he can’t shut up about you and how much he cares for you – from a distance. Says he doesn’t want to get too close because you’re straight, and because he doesn’t want you to know about his job, but I guess you know about his job now, no? Though, looking at you, you don’t feel anything approaching straight to me…”

“Does… he talk about me that much?”

“Oh, he does. He’s like, in _love_ with you. Always singing your praises about how gentle and generous you are, how you’re so well put together, and how you always know what to say about things. He hides a lot of details, but info comes out anyways – especially when he’s with me. I remind him a lot of you, he says. Maybe that’s why he decided to perform with me so much and teach me the ropes so well in this business?” He lightly rubs his chin in thought. “No, that can’t be right… Actually, he once told me he feels super guilty filming and performing with me because of how much I remind him of you – like he’s doing something he shouldn’t, you know?”

So, even when getting to fuck a guy like this, he’s thinking of me? That’s… Is it flattering? The circumstances are just… so weird.

“I’d call it deification if I didn’t know any better, really.” He chuckles. “Big guy’s got big feelings, even if he likes to hide them from others a lot.” He cringes. “Uh, don’t tell him I called him that.”

“…big guy?”

“Yeah.”

“He doesn’t like it?”

“Oh, the opposite, actually. He’s been called that a lot while filming stuff that it turns him on like _hell._ I’m guessing he just pavloved himself with the phrase – a cute guy calls him big guy and it’s like you flick a switch, and he’s ready and raring to go!” Laughter. “I never do it on purpose, but whenever we’re in public, and someone does it, and I see his face and I can _tell_ why it’s gotten to him, I laugh to myself.”

“I… I see.”

He clicks his tongue and steps away from his table. “Well, I feel I’ve taken enough of your time. Have fun here, waiting for him, I guess!”

“Hey, actually. You said you were doing all this to pay for something, right?”

“Tuition. I’m a psych major.” That explains him just using terms like those in conversation. “Since I gotta balance studying and this work life I don’t toss myself into it quite as hard as I could, but hey, the market’s there, and if becoming a therapist doesn’t work out, I can always just shake my ass for cash.” Oh, huh. “Well, toodles!” He winks at me and waves, before exiting the room.

And now… I’m left alone with my thoughts. I guess that, even through it all, I’m not bothered by all of this. I’m bothered because of the risks, and I’m bothered that Joshua had to throw himself into something like this to make money, but I don’t… actually mind that he’s doing all of this. I guess he was worried that I’d think less of him as a person for it. I don’t. I’m just worried for him. Maybe I should tell him that.

…

Joshua enters the room after a few minutes, looking exhausted and miserable. “You’re back.” I stand from my seat, walk to him—

“Don’t… don’t touch me.”

“W-what? Why?”

He slowly shakes his head. “Some… of the clients are a bit… _premature,_ and…”

Oh. “Oh…”

He nods. “Lemme… lemme take a quick shower and we can go home.” He grabs his clothes and storms into the small bathroom in the back, shutting the door. I hear some heavy garments hitting the floor – must be the harness and the boots he’s wearing. A shower starts. I see some steam come out from the bottom of the door. I think of the way this room has no windows again.

A couple of minutes after, he’s out, dressed in his regular clothing, looking down. “Well, I’m… I’m ready.”

“Josh?”

He looks at me, and it feels like he’s begging me not to say anything with his miserable sight. “Let’s… let’s just go home, please.”

I check the time on my phone. A bit past one AM. I hadn’t realized. “Yeah, it’s late. Let’s go.”

…

We leave through an employee door at the back of the establishment, avoiding the people at the front. With his hair down, wearing glasses and with yellow eyes, he’s… pretty unrecognizable from the person that everyone there knows. Maybe that’s why he does all that. You wouldn’t think such changes would make him unrecognizable like this, but they do. He thought this through.

He unlocks his car and opens the back door, grabbing the blanket I left there. “…so, this is how you… I see.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll just toss it in the washer tomorrow.” Expressionless, he closes the door and enters through the driver’s side door. I enter through the passenger’s side.

We drive off. He quickly spins around, and now we’re driving home – the road back to New Blackden. As the neon light of Heaven’s Moon fades from the rear view, I realize… that’s Sudbury. It’s on the outskirts of the city, sure, but that’s Sudbury. And Joshua told me once he has to drive for work there a lot…

…

It’s a silent ride. He’s driving fast, but he also looks exhausted. “Hey, are you sure you want to drive?”

A pause of a few seconds. “What do you mean?”

“You look tired. I could drive the rest of the way home if you want.”

He stares ahead, still silent. “It’s not the kind of tired that goes away by sleeping.”

I just nod.

We drive in silence for a few more minutes. “You know…”

“Yeah?” I wonder what he’s going to say.

“I… wanted to be a singer, you know?” A pause. That explains how he started singing while drunk a few hours ago. And he was very good at it. We’re leaving the more urban side of the roads. “I hoped that getting here, after getting established, I could join a band or form one of my own. To get on stage, sing and growl my heart out, with the kind of music I used to listen to. I hoped I could make that a… side gig. It was a dream.” He turns the car, deftly maneuvering through the roads. “A dream. The only thing I can say was really a dream of mine. Something… for myself.”

Some silent driving.

“But then I got here and my job fell through. And I was offered an entry into this industry, and I took it. And now I don’t think I can do that anymore. It’s outside my reach now.”

I lightly rub his thigh. “Why? You make good money. You could dial back on work a bit and try and get into it. You’re good at singing.”

He looks down, sadly. “No. You don’t get it. A _whore_ can’t break into such an industry easily. I’d become a laughingstock the moment people found out what I did for a living, unless I knew how to market myself very well, and I… I don’t have the energy for it anymore. I should just stick to selling my body and leave it at that. It’s stable and it pays the bills.”

“But you hate it. And there’s nothing wrong with what you do.”

“It’s stable. And it pays the bills.” He squeezes the steering wheel harder. I stop touching his thigh and lean back on my chair, not sure what to say. “…I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I’m sorry that you had to find out about all of this. You shouldn’t know. You wouldn’t have ever found out if I had any say in the matter. But now you know why I said that I didn’t want to be with you, no matter how much I wanted it.”

I just… want him to pull over and hug him. Because he’s wrong. So wrong.

“But I already told you that. There’s no use going over it again.”

And the silent ride home continues. Another fifteen minutes until we arrive.

We enter, and he silently leaves the car. I follow. I’m tired and my body hurts. A combination of the exercise I did the previous day, and the everything that’s happened today. It’s too much. It’s been too much. I lightly touch his shoulder, but he pulls away, walking ahead of me, like he doesn’t even want to look at me.

We get to the top of the stairs and he locks himself in the bathroom. I remember… cleaning and closing a razor. Maybe he was using it to fix his body fur a bit, before tonight’s show. I hear him brush his teeth. He hasn’t eaten anything in a bit. He lets me in after a while, and I brush my teeth as well.

I come to the bedroom after that’s done, to notice him staring at his bed. I start undressing, to climb into my own bed – it’s still unmade. It’s already cold. “Hey, Josh?”

He stares at his bed for a few more moments, before shaking his head. “…no.” He opens a drawer on his desk and pulls some keys out. “I can’t… bear the idea of sleeping in the same room as you.”

That’s enough. “Why? Joshua, I don’t care that you work in this stuff! I still care for you! Seriously, you have to stop beating yourself up over that! I don’t mind—”

“ ** _But I do._** ” A potent roar. Curt. To the point. And it dwarfs me. He closes his eyes and softly sighs. “…but I do, James.” He looks at me, and I suddenly feel how tired he is. A type of tired that doesn’t go away with sleeping, he said. “I’m sorry. For everything. Good night.”

And he walks out. I hear another room be unlocked. Then, the door slams shut.

I…

I can’t do anything about that. And I hate that. But… I guess I can only talk about it with him tomorrow morning… hopefully.

…

I softly climb into his bed. I hate that I yearn for his touch so badly, and that he wants to give it to me, but he won’t allow himself to do so. It hurts. I can’t help wondering how much it hurts him as well… We need help. Both of us.

I flick the lights off and lay my head on his pillow.

It smells like him.

I drift off…

…

Static and darkness. Someone sitting on a chair. Joshua. He’s fully dressed, but everything is blurry. A scene fades into place… it looks like a therapist’s office. I can hear a clock ticking every second.

“Well, Mr. Roderick, we’re here to follow up on the way the treatment’s been working for you. So, if you would please share your experience. If you could tell me what’s happening right now.”

The clock ticks again. Silence. It ticks again.

A voice crackles to life, through static. It’s Joshua’s voice.

“…I want to kill myself.”

…

“I want to fucking off myself. I want to bury a knife in my chest deep enough that it stops beating. I want to wrap rope around my neck and kick the stool so hard I can’t save myself after. I want to cut so deep into my arms that the blood doesn’t stop coming out one day and I fade. I want to sink to the bottom of the lake and not swim back up. I want to have a bullet pierce my skull and liquefy my brain, so I don’t think anymore. I want to die. I want to die. _I. Want. To. **Die.**_ ”

The clock ticks, a bit louder.

“That’s it. That’s the truth. That’s what’s happening right now. Is that what you want to hear? And why wouldn’t I want such a thing?”

Tick.

“Waking up every morning is a fucking ordeal. I stare at the ceiling in bed until my stomach stabs me and I have to drag myself down to eat something. If I don’t have anything to do, and I don’t have to pretend I function, I just drink and smoke to dull the feeling of being alive. Maybe it’s going to kill me sooner or later. That would be lovely. My life is empty. It’s not a life.”

Tick.

“Why wouldn’t I want to die? My fucked up brain has made it hard to exist since the moment I was born, and none of the treatments or the therapy has worked. No matter how many pills I shove down my throat, nothing improves. Maybe the only way it’d improve is if I took so many that my body stopped working. That would be an improvement. Everything else is bullshit.”

Tick.

“I work a job I despise to earn money for people that aren’t me. I throw myself hard at it, letting men I don’t know leer at my body, grope it, kiss it, and get their rocks off to this idea of me. So many dicks I’ve taken. So many hands that have touched me. So many sensations I’ve been made to experience as part of work, for cash. And I don’t remember most of it. But it pays well.”

Tick.

“The worst part… is that I don’t fully hate it, either. I like being seen. I like performing. I like how it feels on some level. I’m starting to enjoy all the things I have to do for it. And I feel that makes me filthy. Something lower than human. A piece of meat. Something made to be consumed. I shouldn’t be enjoying it. But I am. I enjoy it. I’m… truly a whore.”

Tick.

“And all of this… done for the well-being of ingrates. I bought a big house to record in, in a cheap shithole town with low rent, and I produce my own content there. And that’s all the spending I conduct on myself. Everything else goes back to my ungrateful family back home, to pay for the few of them that actually care. For my little brother. Everyone else can rot. But he needs it.”

Tick.

“And then I have to exist and help my friends because they wouldn’t be able to pick up after themselves otherwise. It feels like I’m taking care of children. You have the one that needs money periodically because he can’t afford anything on his own. You have the one that’s scared even of his own shadow. You have the one I built into his own person because he didn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground, and that’s the worst one of them all. Because the first two are… the thanks I get are silence. Nothing I do is appreciated. But the last one heaps abuse on me because he decided he hates me. After all I’ve done. After all I still do for him. For all of them.”

_Tick._

“But… I keep doing it regardless, because I still love them. Because no matter how much I resent them, I still love them, and I don’t want them to suffer. So I crawl through barbed wire, with what little mental energy I have, to provide for them and to protect them. I shouldn’t. But I keep doing it because I don’t know how else to show people that I care. But… nobody would do something like that for me. Ever. And I don’t deserve it.”

_Tick._

“And… the worst one… has to be the deer. The one that’s hardly there. Because… because he means so much to me, but I can’t ever let it show. Because he doesn’t deserve all of this mess. Because he wouldn’t reciprocate, and even if he did, he shouldn’t have to deal with a sad whore. Because he’s… perfect. And he deserves better than this.”

_Tick._

“James…”

_Tick._

“So I’m… going to keep doing it. I’m going to keep moving forward, and helping all of them, until they come into their own. I’ll do it until they forget I exist. Until they can move on from me, and they finally abandon me. All of them. My friends. My family. The one I yearn for.”

_Tick._

“And then… I’ll do it. I’ll end it all. Because I won’t have anything else to live for, and because there’ll be nobody left to mourn me. I don’t want to worry anyone. I don’t want to impose upon anyone. I just want to go in silence, and not have anyone miss me. I want to be free.”

_Tick._

“And I’ll achieve it. One day. Hopefully soon.”

**_Tick._ **

The other voice chimes in. “Mr. Roderick?”

He clears his throat. Now the voice comes out clear, like it’s being spoken by him. “Oh, sorry, I just remembered something from work. I should make a mental note of the solution I found. Um, I just wanted to report that the treatment with the last medication was successful, and the situation has improved a lot. I’d say that you can start taking me off the treatment within a month.”

“Very well, I’ll make a note of that. I’m glad to see you’ve made so much progress.”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

I run to the silhouette, but it fades. Everything fades. Of course I can’t interact with it – it’s all a memory. Someone else’s memory. But I remember this happening as well. I remember we were once on a trip to Sudbury, that Joshua had driven us all to, because we wanted to have fun and he wanted to help. I spotted him leaving a mental health clinic, and he said he was there helping a friend the moment I asked him why. I believed him. From what I see, the therapist believed him as well. Because he’s good at hiding things and lying, and he has been for several years. We don’t… know him. None of us know this side of him.

…

If the previous dreams I’ve had have been the truth, this has to be a truth as well. This has to be something he goes through. I feel I know him a lot better now. I also feel I need to help. But I don’t know how. All these thoughts, that he hides from everyone… how he resents the help he has to give without getting anything in return, how he hates his job and how he’s starting to enjoy it, how he feels about himself, how he feels about me, how he wants to… to…

…

This is him.

…

I need to help him. Someone has to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may now see a side story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27219511/chapters/73558299


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